


Try Again

by posingasme



Series: Next Time I Fall [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Divorce, Exes, F/M, M/M, Past Bela Talbot/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Past Raphael/Castiel, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6096139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's ex-wife is a thieving bitch.<br/>Sam's ex-wife was his everything.<br/>Castiel's ex-husband is making him crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All My Exes

**Author's Note:**

> They're saying I do,  
> I'm saying I don't.  
> I won't regret it,  
> One single minute.  
> 'Cause love's great...  
> When you're not in it
> 
> ~Michael Petersen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going through the big D  
> And don't mean Dallas.  
> I can't believe what  
> The judge had to tell us:  
> I got the jeep,  
> She got the palace...  
> I'm going through the big D  
> And don't mean Dallas. 
> 
> ~Mark Chesnutt

It had been eighteen weeks. That wasn't exactly an anniversary. Four months and two weeks. A hundred twenty-six days.

Sam glanced at the clock.

A hundred twenty-seven days.

Nobody called to see how someone was doing at eighteen weeks. A week, two weeks. A month. Two months, maybe three. But then the next big milestone was six months, then a year. Then no one would think of it until it had been two years.

Eighteen weeks just wasn't numerically significant enough to warrant any sort of notice.

But Sam noticed. He and Jess had been divorced eighteen weeks...and a few hours.

He knew he could call Dean. His big brother was always ready to support him, and he never needed an excuse to go out for a beer. But it was late, and Sam wasn't any more miserable tonight than he usually was. Besides, Dean had his own family to care for, and his own problems.

Sam scowled at the dark ceiling from flat on his back in an empty room. "Ninety-nine problems, and Bela is every single one," he said bitterly.

Dean had finally cancelled all his credit cards and closed his bank accounts. But she knew every password and PIN Dean had ever used, and every so often, he found that something new had been stolen, and he had to change it again. At this point, Dean had a harder time figuring out his own passwords than Bela did.

Lisa had been fairly patient about the whole thing, but to say it had not been stressful on Dean's marriage when his ex-wife began regularly stealing from his accounts would be just untrue. Dean had told him just last week that Lisa had finally lost her cool.

"Demanded to know why I married her in the first place."

Sam snorted. "I'm guessing you knew better than to say you got conned because she was so hot."

"I mentioned the con but not the hot part. She just shook her head at me and said she needed to get some air."

"You're lucky she didn't take your Impala when she went, you know."

Dean's face twisted into a sneer. "I'd have found her and killed her by now," he said darkly, and Sam wasn't certain he didn't mean it.

His big brother hadn't been entirely wiped out. Sam had caught on to Bela faster than Dean had, by months, mostly because she had made the mistake of trying to double-dip in the family fortune by snagging the younger brother too. Sam had immediately gone to work quietly protecting his brother's assets without telling him. If Dean knew, Bela could get it out of him. Bela always got what she wanted.

Sam hated to think what could have happened if Bela had approached him when he wasn't with Jess, when he was so achingly lonely that he might have reached for anyone. In his heart, he knew he wouldn't have accepted her advances. But some nights, lying alone and needing touch, it was too painful to think of Jess, too wrong, and he found himself thinking of the beautiful thief his brother had married. Somehow, the guilt of imagining Bela taking advantage of him and stabbing his brother in the back was fractionally less severe than the guilt of imagining Jess, who no longer wanted him.

Better to spend his dreams with someone who pretended than someone who had changed her mind.

There were a few of Dean's accounts that he still didn't have access to himself, because Sam wouldn't let him. Not until they found the bitch who dared make him a fool. And Dean hardly had a leg to stand on when he considered that his ex-wife had shot Sam in the shoulder on her way out.

Strangely, only Dean ever really blamed him for falling for Bela. Everyone else who had ever met her understood, including Sam. Shoulder wound or not, Sam still enjoyed thinking of the bitch now and then.

"Just glad Dad didn't live to see this," Dean had said through his teeth.

Sam had sighed. "Dude, don't flatter yourself. If Dad had been alive, she would have made a beeline straight for him. You and I wouldn't have even been on her radar."

His brother looked at him in disgust. "Thank you for that. Because you and my wife wasn't a horrible enough image in my mind, now I can think of Dad and my wife."

He shrugged. "Just calling it as I see it."

They were quiet for a moment. Then Dean sighed. "She was hot though, right?"

"Definitely hot."

The man put his head down into his arms and groaned. "Lisa is going to kill me if they don't catch her."

"No she won't. You told her all this before you got married."

"Not all of it," he murmured. "She knew Bela left me and stole all my money and ran up my accounts on jewelry. But she didn't know that's the whole reason she married me in the first place. She didn't know I'm a complete idiot. She just thought I'd married a bitch." He lifted his head and drained the last of his beer. "God, what a bitch."

"Dean, the money is mostly insured. They just had to separate what was taken while you were still married and what-"

"It ain't about that, and you know it. I brought someone into our lives that took the money our family earned and fucked me for it, then shot my kid brother when he confronted her, because I was too stupid to do it myself."

Sam was silent.

"Lisa has every right to be pissed. I told her I had a thief as an ex-wife. I didn't tell her she had a moron for a husband."

Lisa had come to bring Dean home within the hour. Sam had stared down at his beer while she whispered to him.

"Dean, I'm not angry with you," she said carefully.

"You should be. I fucked up so bad before you met me that it's hurting you now."

"No," she sighed. "Dean, what I'm really angry about is that someone could have a chance to love you and then use it to hurt you. I'm angry that the things she did to you keep you from feeling completely safe with me. I can't tell you how angry I am that she got to you first, and I'm just sorry I can't erase everything she ever did to you. I'm angry that you'll never trust yourself again. She must have gotten a more confident, happier Dean Winchester than I did, and that isn't fair. But I'm not angry with you. You're the victim, Dean. I just hate that she's still able to creep into our marriage. I hate that every time one of us uses a credit card, the other has to worry that it wasn't one of us at all. I hate that she's obviously still doing it just to prove she can. I love you, Dean. But I really do hate your first wife."

Dean had laughed just as tears choked his throat. It was a sound Sam never wanted to hear again. "Me too," he murmured. "But I can't even hate her as much as I love you."

"Good." This earned Dean a kiss, and then they were gone, with just a warm hand on Sam's back to thank him for the beer and talk.

Tonight, he knew he could call Dean. He could even call Lisa; she had made that clear, and he loved her for that. Hell, he could call Jess. But what was the point? He wouldn't feel any less hollow after.

His shoulder hurt. It was psychosomatic, and he knew it. It ached whenever he got so lonely he couldn't remember how it felt to be touched.

Eighteen weeks, and counting.

***

Castiel Zaffre couldn't remember a time when he wasn't tired. He knew there probably had been an era of his life-perhaps even just a span of a few hours-when he didn't want a nap. But it wasn't springing to mind.

The way Jack was bouncing in the stroller was making it harder to navigate. Finally, it became too much trouble, and he unstrapped the prisoner to run gleefully after his sister, and fall, smack on his face. Castiel waited with a cringe, but the boy didn't cry, just pushed himself up and made up for lost time by sprinting after Thérèse.

He sighed, and sat heavily on a bench, holding his phone to his ear to continue a conversation he didn't want to be having. “Raphael, I cannot bring them this week. Thérèse has dance…” He let his eyes slip closed for an instant. “Yes, Raph. I'm aware that you paid for her dance classes. Thank you for that. But she has to actually attend if…” His weary eyes opened again, and he let his gaze rest on the two children playing in the sand.

He let Raphael have his time, ranting about Castiel's insistence on keeping the children from him, about how clear it was that they were better off in Raphael's care than Castiel's, and how he would speak to the lawyers if Castiel continued to be unreasonable about the whole thing.

Clouds were forming over the park, but the rain hadn't come yet. He wanted to let the children play as long as they could. Castiel was inclined to let them play in the rain if they wanted-what did it really hurt?-but that was just the sort of thing Raphael would hate. Like it or not, Castiel knew that bending to Raphael's will was still in everyone's best interest, especially the children's.

“Yes, Raph,” he murmured. “Whatever you think is best. Of course. May I at least bring them after her class?”

He should have known better. Raphael generously allowed that Thérèse could take her dance class Monday night, but clarified quickly that Castiel would not be dropping them off.

“I will of course send a driver for Jacques and Thérèse. I'll expect them to be dressed properly, Castiel.”

 _Uncomfortably_ , Castiel corrected in his head. “They will be,” he promised.

“Good. Let's hope they learn to take after their Père instead of their Papa in that regard, at least. Sometimes I wonder what exactly you do with their clothing allowance.”

Castiel bit back a reply that would have begun an argument he could never win. “Raph, will you have time to spend with them this week? You'll be home with them some?”

“Of course, Castiel.” The deep voice was full of exasperation. “I'll be back in the States by Wednesday evening. I'll have dinner with them Thursday night. And their Uncle Lucien will be with them on Tuesday for lunch in the city.”

Castiel's eyes narrowed. “I don't like the way your brother disciplines them.”

Raphael's voice took on a bit of its earlier snarl. “You don't like how anyone disciplines them, nor even that anyone does! That's why they've become insolent, because you've been letting them run wild! You're far too indulgent with them.”

He clenched his jaw, and took a breath before speaking. “I don't find them insolent, Raph.”

“Well, of course _you_ don't!” the man snapped back. “You always give them everything they want, so why should they be insolent with you? They're only impertinent with someone who puts their foot down the way any good parent should!”

The ache in his chest was making his eyes burn now. “You've made it clear how you feel about my parenting, Raphael, and about me in general, and you're entitled to that opinion. But don't tell me my children are-”

“I've had enough of this. Have them ready for the driver to pick them up Monday at seven. And for your sake, they had better be dressed and acting respectably.”

Castiel swallowed hard as the call ended abruptly. He blinked several times before his vision cleared enough for him to realize his daughter was watching him from where she sat with her brother in the sand. He smiled as well as he could. “Hey, baby. What's wrong?”

Thérèse smiled too. But her intelligent eyes were still watching him curiously. “You play, Jack.” She stood and hurried to Castiel. “Papa?”

He took her hand. In spite of the sand, it was warm and soft, and it was his favorite thing in the world. “Yes, baby.”

“We're building. Do you want to see? It'll make you be happy.”

His chest tightened, and he forced the smile to brighten. “I'm always happy when I'm with you and Jack. Show me what you built.”

She beamed at him, and pulled him by the hand to the side of the sand box, which was pocked with impressive mounds all over. “This is my city. And Jack…” She lowered her voice a little. “I don't know what Jack made.”

“They're trees!” shouted the little boy with indignation, and a bit of a toddler’s slur. “Trees!”

“He says they're trees,” Thérèse whispered, “but it's a little bit hard to tell.”

Castiel chuckled softly. His blood pressure was beginning to lower again, and his chest was loosening a little. “I like the big trees, Jack, and, Thérèse, tell me a bit about the city.”

As he listened to her describe each mound and its purpose in the imaginary urban environment, Castiel lowered to his knees and felt himself relaxing. He asked her questions about her choice to put the school right next to the post office, and listened to her reason it out. He asked how many stories the houses were, and what colors, and what sorts of families lived in them. Jack piped in to tell him that there were elephants and rabbits living in his forest, and wondered what sort of noise a rabbit makes. They all thought on that for a bit, until Thérèse came to the conclusion that rabbits had to be quiet because other animals ate them if they could find them, and Jack responded that he didn't think elephants ate rabbits, did they, Papa?

By the time the rain began, Castiel had all but forgotten his call from his ex-husband, except for one small thing. He smirked, and stood out of the sand. “Come on, guys. Let's go find some mud to play in.”

Raphael didn't like these play clothes of theirs anyway.


	2. Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know that I've got issues  
> But you're pretty messed up too  
> Either way I found out  
> I'm nothing without you
> 
> 'Cause we belong together now, yeah  
> Forever united here somehow, yeah  
> You got a piece of me  
> And honestly  
> My life would suck without you
> 
> ~Kelly Clarkson

Kevin was staring at him. He wasn't sure how long he had been doing that.

“What?” he demanded irritably.

“We still together on this? Or am I on my own?”

Sam scowled. “I'm working, aren't I?”

“Your hands are working, and your brain is working. I'm just not sure they're working on the same thing,” Kevin said dryly.

He felt himself flushing with frustration under his mask. “I will smack you with Ms. Hudd’s gallbladder.”

“No you won't. We had the cameras in here fixed, and you are way too rich to not sue.”

Sam sighed. “Suture.”

Kevin's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“For the attending’s mouth.”

He could feel the glare though he didn't bother looking. “You're an asshole.”

“It's a second year course. All surgeons take it. I was top of the class.”

Kevin stepped back, his gloved hands raised. “Seriously. How you doing?”

“I'm fine. And concentrating.”

“Dude, you can do this one in your sleep. I've seen you do it in your sleep.”

“Then why'd you wake me up?” he snapped.

Kevin's voice was quieter this time. “You're practically running your own table. I gotta have something to do. May as well use my undergrad degree.”

“Which is?”

“Psych.”

Sam couldn't roll his eyes, so he settled for narrowing them. “How's that paperweight diploma helping?”

“Not bad, actually. For example, I can tell you why you're fielding your own table ever since your paperwork with Jess was signed. Want to hear?”

He ground his teeth. “Maybe I'm running my own table because my attending tech is useless.”

Kevin’s eyes smirked at him. “Just for that, I'll tell you. You're refusing to let someone hand you things you need, especially me, because you think you're the only one you can trust with anything important.”

He didn't want to take the bait. He tried not to. “Why especially you?”

It made the younger man grin beneath the mask to be asked. “Two theories,” he said cheerfully, as he stepped forward to clamp back an impediment to Sam's view. “One is that I'm epically good looking and frustratingly straight, and you're afraid that now that you're single again, you'll fall for me in a tragically but romantically comedic workplace drama sort of way.”

It was hard not to smile at that. “I think we can rule that out.”

“Hm,” Kevin said thoughtfully, as if he wasn't convinced. “Okay, second theory.” This took on a more serious tone. “You and I have been a team for nearly as long as you and Jess were. Minus your brother, I’ve been around longer than anybody else.”

There was no minus Dean. Dean was everything Sam had ever truly had, and he would be the last thing Sam could ever cut out of his own heart. But Kevin was probably right about the rest of it.

“I bet you're not even trusting your brother to hand you a beer.”

The response snapped out before he had even thought it. “I don't need anyone giving me anything. Now would you just back off before I clamp you shut?”

Kevin nodded. “You're the boss, Doc. Just let me know if you need anything. I'll be standing here doing nothing but psychoanalyzing you for another hour.”

Sam sighed.

***

Jessica Moore-Winchester shook her head sadly. “There's one thing you can say for my ex-husband. He's consistent.”

The man holding the bouquet shrugged, almost apologetically. “If it helps, they were very expensive.”

She laughed and took hold of the flowers. “And they're beautiful. Thank you, Castiel.”

He nodded. “If he ever placed the order in person, or even on the phone, I could tell him to stop. But maybe he knows that. He always places the order online. Your divorce has been better for my business than most people's weddings.”

Jessica sighed and nodded. “If I wanted him to stop, I could tell him to. He would. But the frequency of these flowers is my gauge on his mental health. If I get more than two a week, I know I need to call and check on him.”

Castiel bit into his lip.

She looked up to find a frown on his face. “Cas? Have a seat.”

“Oh, no, ma’am. I'm not here to intrude.”

The sweet smile calmed his nerves. “Cas, I'm done with everything I'm going to do for today. These briefs can wait until I have energy for them. You’re not intruding. You've been coming to my office, bringing me flowers and showing me pictures of your little ones for over a year. We're friends by now. Sit. Ask me what you're wondering.”

Castiel lowered himself slowly. “I don't want to be rude.”

“You're never rude.”

“I guess I just don't understand. Sam loves you so much. And you care about him. At least you worry about him; you check in on him. He's spent nearly a thousand dollars on flowers since the divorce, and that doesn't include the year of separation beforehand, when it was at least twice a week. I paid off my greenhouse that summer he sent nothing but orchids. This is nothing like my divorce from my husband. Why...why are you even separated?”

She smiled softly, and looked down at her delicate hands for a few moments before speaking. “Cas, I'm sorry about what you must have going on between you and your husband. Having kids on top of everything must have made things a hundred times harder. But you're very lucky to have them.”

Realization came to him then, and he winced. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

Jessica nodded. “So am I. Sam would have been an incredible father. He should have been. And we had other options, of course. Adoption. Artificial insemination. He certainly had the money for that. You adopted your children?”

“Yes. As newborns, each of them.”

She smiled sweetly. “I'm glad. There are so many babies who need good fathers. But, Cas, that just wasn't it for me, you know? I need my own.”

“They are my own.”

Her hand reached out and took hold of his. “I don't mean that. Of course they are. But for me...I want the whole experience. I tried telling myself it didn't matter. Tried for two years after we found out he...I beat myself up every night, feeling shallow and petty and wicked. But it does matter. To me, it just does. I couldn't even explain why. But I could see what it was doing to Sam, the way it got to where he couldn't look me in the eyes, couldn't touch me. He doesn't send flowers to remind me he loves me, Cas. He sends them to remind himself he wasn't enough for me. And that's why it doesn't matter how much I care about him. There were other, little things that pushed us apart. But it came down to that. I need something he can't give me, and that isn't something either of us can do anything about. We've both done everything we can. So this is just his way of telling me he still wishes things had been different.”

To his great surprise, Castiel felt tears cloud his eyes. He shook his head. “I'm sorry,” he said again.

“Thank you.” She sat back wearily. “What about you? How long have you been separated?”

Castiel smiled, and blinked back his emotion. “Not long enough.”

Jessica laughed at this. “Don't get me wrong, Cas. There's a lot I enjoy about being single again. For one thing, I can take off for a bar on a Tuesday night, with no one to explain myself to. You say I'm always your last business of the day. Let me buy you a drink. Or do you need to get home to your little ones?”

He shook his head shyly. “No, I...They're with their father this week.”

“What does that make you?”

“I'm Papa. Thérèse and Jack are with Raphael. Or...they're at his estate. I hope they aren't just with the au pair. She's very good, of course. But they miss their father, and I'm sure he's too busy.”

Jessica stood and took her suit jacket from her chair. “Either way, they're taken care of, and you need your mind off things. Come on. There's a martini waiting for me.”

Castiel followed her with a smile.


	3. Too Much to Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I was not the first  
> Just say I'll be the last.  
> It's too much to expect  
> But it's not too much to ask. 
> 
> Now I could only dream  
> Of being all you need.  
> And I can only try  
> To be the reason why  
> You think about today  
> And forget about the past. 
> 
> It's too much to expect  
> But it's not too much to ask. 
> 
> ~Mary Chapin Carpenter  
> and Joe Diffie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still hurting from the last time  
> You walked on this heart of mine   
> I can't find much to believe in  
> You let me down so many times. 
> 
> Heaven knows how much   
> I love you  
> But I'm tired of holding on  
> You better kiss me  
> 'Cause you're gonna miss me  
> When I'm gone. 
> 
> ~Brooks & Dunn

Castiel blinked in astonishment. “Wow! What a bitch!” He glanced around quickly, and lowered his voice. “What a bitch,” he repeated.

Jessica laughed, upsetting her drink a little. “I know, right?”

He shook his head, and felt the dizziness begin. “I didn't realize your ex-husband was...one of them. Raph did some business with their father, I think. They're what folks like Raph’s family call ‘newly independent,’ which means crazy rich in any other family. I feel a little better about Sam financing my greenhouse now,” he said sheepishly. 

She nodded. “Yeah. It's a sweet thing for him to do, but don't think for a minute it's hurting his purse. I did okay in the divorce myself. It would be hypocritical of me to resent you doing well because of it.”

He snorted softly. “I bet we didn't do as well as Bela did.”

“That's the truth.”

“What a bitch,” he said again, mostly to himself. “I mean...there have been plenty of times I've wanted to see Raph hurt because of what he put me and the kids through. But I would never, ever do anything to their father. Ever. Bela...wow.” 

Jess nodded and stirred her cocktail straw. “Yeah. Dean's a good guy too. He and Sam are some of the best out there.”

Castiel smiled, feeling a small flush cross his cheeks. Maybe it was the alcohol making him less inhibited, but he really felt comfortable joking and teasing with her. “Why are the good ones always straight or on their fifth husbands?” he sighed. 

Her laugh was lovely. “That's not exactly my problem, but it's similar. Are you looking?”

He put his hand up. “No. No, not at all. Not even a little.”

“Really?” She eyed him, but had trouble keeping her gaze focused. 

“Absolutely. Men are nothing but hassle. I've got too much on my plate. I don't even miss it. Not even a little,” he added, in case he hadn't mentioned it yet. 

She seemed dubious. “You're not the least bit lonely. Not even for sex?”

He scoffed and swallowed half his drink. “Not even.”

“You sound like you're trying to convince yourself, not me.”

“I am.”

Jessica snorted into her drink, and coughed. “Cas! What are you doing out with me? You're home alone this week. Go get laid!”

The last of his drink went down too easily, and he indicated to the bartender that another would be appreciated. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone out and gotten even a buzz, and now he seemed to have skipped right past buzzed, beyond tipsy, and on through sloshed without noticing. “You say that like it's my choice. Like I've got a little black book of guys waiting by the phone for me to call. The only people in my phone favorites list are Raphael and his brother, and the preschool.”

“His brother?” She was beginning to slur her words just a little. 

“So I know not to answer the phone.”

She nodded. “Okay, then let's go to a bar.”

“We're in a bar.”

“A gay bar.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. His face was burning hot now, and he took hold of his new drink quickly. “You're kidding, right? I haven't been in a gay scene for...probably since Clinton.”

Jessica's red lips smiled, and she patted him on the arm. She was a bit off-balanced as she did so. “Honey, I was finishing middle school when Clinton was leaving office.”

The sound that emitted from his throat was the most pitiful he had ever heard. He dropped his head down to the bar. “I'm old!” he wailed. 

He appreciated her sympathetic back rub. Even if she was probably eight years younger. God, he was old. 

“And anyway,” he muttered into his arms, “what do I have to offer? Hey, I'm an average-looking man in his mid-thirties, who can't remember the last time he stayed up past nine on a school night, and whose interests include getting modeling clay out of the carpeting and reading about a bear who eats marmalade. Also, I have a degree in botany, with a concentration in economic bryology, which is exactly as exciting as it sounds, but I threw away that life of glory to barely tread water as a small-scale florist. Did I mention I'm not free on Mondays because my daughter has dance?” He lifted his head, and smirked. His fingers formed an imaginary phone, and he lowered his voice into a sultry parody. “Call me. But not after eight, because…” He paused in faux dramatics. “...that's when we do bath and story time.” He looked at his hand. “Oh. He hung up. What a surprise.” With that, he dropped his head back onto the bar. 

“You're pitiful.”

“Thank you,” he sighed. “I should probably make a dating profile. Divorced, boring, awkward gay man seeking intelligent, single gay nice guy. Just to see if they exist.” He sat up long enough to throw back his shot, then put his chin on his folded arms. 

“What about a bisexual nice guy?”

“A legendary, nearly mythological creature. They date only women and exist only to frustrate men like me.”

“That's not true.”

“No? What evidence do you have to refute my claim?”

Jessica smiled smugly, and tipped her drink back. “I happen to know one.”

Castiel sighed. “He's probably married.”

“Nope. Not anymore.”

There was a beat of silence before Castiel took her meaning. “Wait. Sam Winchester is bisexual?”

She shrugged. “Always said he was. And we checked out guys together all the time. He's got a crush on both Danneel and Jensen Ackles. Which I teased him about relentlessly because I think Jensen looks like Dean, and he claims not to see it.”

The alcohol was fogging his brain. He squinted at her. “Ignoring for a minute that I have no idea who those people are, why would you even bring up your husband as an example of what I want?”

Jessica smiled a little sadly. “I don't want to be married to him. That doesn't mean I don't want him to be happy. And from what you told me about how Raphael treated you, and still treats you? You deserve a guy like Sam in your life.”

“This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had. I'm a poor judge of social norms, but I'm certain it's unusual for a woman to hook her ex-husband up with their florist.”

“He's hot,” she added. 

“Are you just adding on more reasons he’s out of my league just to torment...Oh wow.” The photo in her phone stopped him cold. “Wow. Jess, he's really hot.”

“And athletic. And a very generous lover.”

Castiel threw his hands up again. “I cannot do this. I can't do this. I can't talk to you about your sex life with your ex-husband.”

“Sure you can.”

It had to be the alcohol. He took a deep breath. “Okay, I can. Jess, my love life is probably over. So let me live vicariously through your past experiences.”

She snorted, and pulled her hair out of its bun to fall in waves onto her shoulders. “Your love life isn't over. You said you're like thirty-five. And by the way, you are so not average-looking.”

The man beside Castiel at the bar moved in a little. “I gotta interrupt you.”

“Probably you don't,” Jessica slurred. 

He laughed a little and shrugged. “Fair point. But you two are talking louder than I think you're aware. So I'm going to take that as an invitation to join in.”

Castiel looked at Jessica. 

She shrugged. “I think that's fair,” she ruled. 

The man grinned. “Name’s Lee Chambers. And you two are far too interesting to not get to know better.”


	4. The Why of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking baby  
> It's my turn.  
> I don't like  
> What's going round  
> Spreading like fire  
> All over this town.  
> Up and gone  
> Has done caught on.  
> How else can you explain?  
> Leaving seems to be  
> The going thing. 
> 
> ~Trick Pony

“Dean?”

He shut his laptop quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lisa smiled a little, but it didn't wash away her concern. “Come to bed, Dean.”

“I just…” He licked his lips and glanced back at the computer. “I'm just doing a little work.”

“I know what you're doing. And I'd like you to come to bed instead.”

Dean wondered if she really knew what kept him up at night.

“Babe?”

He shook himself. “Yeah. No, I'm coming. I'm ready for bed already.” He followed her quietly, bare feet padding on hard wood. As they settled into bed, he took a deep breath. “Lise?”

She rolled onto her side to gaze at him through sleepy eyes. “Hm?”

“Do you...Ben’s okay here, right? I mean, he's been happy, hasn't he?”

Her smile was brilliant. He lived for that smile. “Yeah. He's happy. He's doing great.”

Dean nodded. “I thought so. I just...I like to check. He's a great kid, Lise. I'm proud of him.”

She reached out and touched his cheek gently. “He adores you, Dean.”

He chewed on his lip for a moment and felt her hand slip away to rest on his chest instead. He held it tightly against his heartbeat. “He can have anything he wants,” he said suddenly.

Lisa startled beside him. “What?”

Dean winced. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd fallen asleep.”

“No, it's okay. What were you saying?”

“Just...Ben. He can have anything he wants. He talked about guitar lessons a while back. I'd like to get those for him. He'd be good at it. And it could be a reward for his good grades.”

Her big, dark eyes blinked at him. “Oh. Okay. I'll look into it. See if we can make it work in his schedule. I had forgotten about it.”

“I think he should do it. I'll get him the best guitar out there, whatever his teacher recommends.”

She laughed in surprise. “I'm pretty sure you're supposed to wait and see if the kid will stick with something before you invest in a good instrument.”

He frowned in frustration. “No. He's more likely to enjoy it if he's got a badass guitar. I want him to have what he wants. I want him to be happy.”

There was a silence, and he thought perhaps she had fallen asleep again, but then she spoke up. “Dean, Ben and I are happy. We're not leaving. You don't need to worry about that. And you don't need to throw money at us to make us want to stay.”

He swallowed hard. “Where do you go on Thursday afternoons?”

She sat up and twisted to face him. “What?”

Dean's stomach was churning. He hated how his voice sounded. His eyes slid off to the side to avoid hers in the dark. “You only teach your classes till two on Thursdays, but you don't get home till six like every other day. What do you do?”

He could feel her staring at him. “I go to the school and volunteer. You know that.”

“School's out at four.” He said it through a dry throat that was closing in on him.

Lisa’s lips parted slowly. “Dean, are you...are you asking me who I'm with?”

He cringed. “I just see you come home sometimes on Thursdays looking like…”

“Like I've only worked a half day so I'm less tired? Like I've had a chance to unwind, and maybe spend some time by myself while my kid’s at school? Like I may have even had my nails done or gotten a massage at the studio?”

His eyes were burning now. “I just want you to be happy,” he whispered. “I just want you to want to come home. I can get you anything you want. You know? Just please tell me if you ever want...more. I can get it. Whatever it is. You don't have to go get it anywhere else. Whatever it is you need, I'll get it or-or I'll be it.”

“Dean, please,” she sighed. “Please stop. Ben and I love you because of who you are, not what you have or what you can get for us. We're happy. I'm happy. Or I would be if I could make you relax somehow.”

The tears were on his face before he realized it. “Lise, you don't have to…” He gasped in an anguished breath. “Lise, I found out years ago how much I'm worth. And you're so much better than she ever...I never was much for math; that was Sam's thing. But this math don't add up, and even I can see that. If my money is the only way a woman like Bela could tolerate me...You're so much better than she ever was, and you love me? If I'm beneath Bela Talbot, Lise, I'm not even on the same plane as you.” He stared up at her as exhaustion and humiliation weighed him down. “Lisa, I just want to make sure you know I'll do anything for you and Ben. Anything.”

Lisa shook her head, and closed her eyes. “Oh, Dean.”

“I wish you would just give me something I can do for you. You can't be satisfied like this! You're too…”

She waited.

He heaved a strangled sigh. “You're too good for me, Lise. And it's tearing me up. I spend every minute of the day terrified you're going to leave me, and every night wondering why you don't.”

Lisa stood from the bed and paced toward the balcony window. Her lovely silhouette was haloed in the moonlight, and Dean got the surreal feeling that she was already gone, that this was just a ghost haunting him and taunting him. After a very long pause, she spoke without facing him. “Dean, you have to stop this. It's not healthy for you, and it's going to be the death of us. I can't spend all my energy trying to prove to you I'm here to stay. I am not Bela.”

“I know you're not,” he said quickly, and he pushed himself to sit up. “That's the point. It hit me hard what she did. But, Lise, you're so much more to me, Ben too, and it wouldn't just rattle me if I lost you two. It would destroy me. I can't help thinking of what...I wouldn't live through that, Lise. And so I gotta do what I can to make you happy for as long as I can, don't I? You deserve that. And maybe...maybe it'll put it off just a little longer.”

Lisa continued to stare out the window in silence.

Dean closed his eyes against her beauty. He couldn't even enjoy it. It mocked him. It reminded him how little she needed him, and how far out of his league he was with her. Dean didn't even have a league.

Sam was what Dean should have been, what he had every opportunity to be. Sam was brilliant, dedicated, hard-working, and shrewd. He had natural class that Dean could only fake on his best days.

Sam didn't remember a time before money. Dean did. Dean remembered their father breaking his back for what they had now. He could remember the way the man had stumbled into the house past midnight, and Dean had begged him to eat, and then had helped him to bed, only to get up at five to make sure John had gotten up for work. Dean had learned the phrase “eight days a week” before he had learned the names of the seven actual days. His father had been obsessed with his work. There had been no extras around the house, nothing that would point to the savings and investments John was accumulating. Dean cleaned the house, fed Sam, washed the laundry, and ironed John’s clothes for the next day. He could remember one night in particular, seared into his memory with possessive ferocity.

John came in the door to find Dean curled up on the chair, asleep at John’s desk. He had reached down and touched the boy’s cheek gently, and Dean was awake enough to feel it, but he had been so tired he had not been able to open his eyes. “It's okay, son,” he heard his father say. “It'll be worth it soon. Not much longer. You and Sammy...It'll all be worth it.” John had carried him to his own bed, in his strong arms, then patted his cheek again. “You're doing good, little soldier. Not much longer now.”

It was the best memory he had of the man, who had literally worked himself to death as a fifty-two year old when Dean was twenty-seven. Three heart attacks within two weeks had collaborated to steal his father away. Before the final one, Dean had sat vigil over the man, listening to him struggle to breathe. At about twelve thirty at night, around the time he used to arrive home when Dean was a child, John had opened his eyes slowly.

“Dean?”

He had been dozing, but now he shot to alertness and hurried from the chair to the bedside. “I'm here, Dad. What do you need?”

The man smiled. He looked old, far older than he should. “I knew you'd be there,” he said hoarsely. “You're always there.”

Dean frowned with confusion. “Yeah, Dad, I'm here. What do you need?”

John shook his head and sighed. “You know...when you were a kid, I'd come home from work, and after what I'd been through, I'd be-I'd be wrecked. And you...you'd come up to me and you-you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye, and you'd...you'd say, ‘It's okay, Dad.’ You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should have been saying that to you. You know, I put...I put too much on your shoulders; I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy; you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know that I am so proud of you.”

It terrified him to hear his father talk this way. His breath came short, and he shook his head frantically. “No,” he murmured. “No, Dad, look, you worked so hard for us; you still do!”

“Dean, you gotta do one last thing for me. You gotta promise.”

“Anything, Dad! You know that…”

“Let Bobby and Mike take it from here.”

He stared at him as he realized what he was saying. “You mean...the business?”

John was nodding. “They've got it all handled. You just look after Sammy. Promise me.”

“Are you telling me not to take over the business? Dad, you've trained me my whole life to…” He swallowed. “I'm not smart enough. You trained me. But I'm not smart enough to do what you…” He could not continue.

“Dean, your brother is working on med school. We both wanted him to...to join the family business. But that’s not where he’s heading, and…”

Dean nodded slowly, feeling his chest tightening mercilessly over his heart. “No, I-I get it. You’re right. It was supposed to-to be me and him. He’s got the analytical mind, the brains. I was just supposed to be the one making the deals. And without him...I get it.”

“I wanted it to be you, Dean. But it’s more important that the company meet its goals. The job comes before everything. Before me. Before everything.”

He could almost see Sam shaking his head in disgust, responding, “No, sir, not everything.” But Dean couldn’t. He had never been able to defy his father. He certainly was not going to learn to do it while John was lying there breathing with support from a machine. “Yes, sir,” he choked out. “I understand. I’m sorry I…” He felt his heart shatter, and he pitched forward a little as the weight of the words hit him even before he had said them. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough.” It was all his father had ever wanted, and Dean had failed him. He hadn’t defied him, the way Sam had when he had chosen another path. He had simply failed to be what John needed him to be. “Dad, I’m so sorry.”

John shook his head. “Dean, you fought every battle I ever asked of you. Now I’m asking you to stand down. That’s for your sake as much as it’s what’s right for the company. You think I want this for you? I don’t want you to be me, Dean.”

It was the most jarring thing anyone had ever said to him, and he couldn’t help what fell from his mouth then. “It’s the only thing I ever learned to be. What do I do now?”

“What do you want to do?”

He was still trying to figure that out all these years later. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted to be Lisa’s husband. No matter what else he was, he wanted to be that too.

“I’m sorry, Lise,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry I’m not enough.”

She turned away from the window at last, and his eyes opened just in time to see her leave the room, and close the door softly behind her.

***

Castiel smiled to himself. “Thérèse, you’ll need to let your brother out of the bathroom eventually.”

A groan came over the telephone. “Papa, he’s so noisy! My bear is trying to sleep!”

“I know, baby. But listen. He’s learning how to act by watching you, okay? Do you want him learning to lock you in the bathroom?”

“No,” she admitted. “But it isn’t even locked!”

He closed his eyes and pictured Raphael’s home in his head. “He’s in the brown bathroom?”

“Yeah…”

“Baby, he’s too little to open that door by himself. Go on. Go let him out.”

“Okay, Papa,” she sighed. “But my bear will wake up grouchy, and if he growls at Jack, it’s not my fault.”

“We’ll take the chance.”

After his son had been released, and the stuffed caniform had done its growling, Castiel cleared his throat. “Thérèse, is your Père home yet? Have you seen him?”

“He called today. Jack got to talk to him.”

Castiel winced at his daughter’s soft voice. “But you didn’t?”

“It’s okay. He’s busy, Papa.”

He sighed. “Yes. He’s very busy,” he agreed sourly. “And Uncle Lucien?”

“He was supposed to be at our lunchtime, but he forgot.”

Castiel heard another voice speak up behind Thérèse. “He didn’t forget you, sweetie. He got stuck in a meeting. He’s going to try to come by tomorrow for brunch.”

He cleared his throat. “Thérèse, may I speak to your teacher?”

“Père says she’s my nanny, not teacher.”

His eyes rolled upward. “Of course he does. May I speak with your nanny?”

“Here. It’s my papa. He wants you.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Zaffre?”

Castiel sighed and put his arm over his eyes. “Please. Call me Cas. You’re Ambyr, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I appreciate you watching over them.”

Her voice was shaking. “Sir, I’m so sorry about her locking him in the-”

He laughed finally. “Ambyr, it’s all right. They’re kids. They’re going to find trouble no matter what you do. I’m sure you’re doing just fine. Just keep an eye on them the best you can. That’s all we can ask. Thérèse knows better than to lock her brother in someplace. And trust me. If he’s hurt or scared, you’ll hear him.”

She breathed with relief. “Thank you, sir. Please, just please don’t tell Mr. Zaffre. I mean...You know what I mean. The other Mr. Zaffre.”

“Ambyr, part of the problem is that they’re bored. Did he leave instructions for them to...do anything? Go anywhere?”

“No…”

His teeth were on edge. “Okay. Let’s try this a different way, shall we? Did he specifically say they couldn’t go anywhere?”

“Um...No, sir. He just told me to make sure they did their French lessons and dressed appropriately, and told me what time to meet his brother downtown. Before he, um, stood us up.”

Of course. Of course all Raphael cared about was their French tutor and their clothes. That was the extent of Raphael’s parenting; he hired tutors and nannies, and bought them expensive clothing that they couldn’t play in. It had been that way their whole lives. “Fine,” he snapped. “That sounds like permission to me. Please take them to a playground or a park, and if it rains or something, take them to a museum. But not an art museum. A children’s museum, where they can actually play. Take them to the library. And if Raph has a problem with it, tell him I told you to, and you didn’t know better. He can call and bitch at me. They’re kids. They need something other than a big house full of things they’re not allowed to touch.”

The woman laughed. “Yes, sir!”

“He left money for you, right?”

“We’ll be fine.”

He cleared his throat. “Look, if you need some, I want you to call me. I’ll drive out and drop some off with you. Okay?”

She sighed. “Mr. Zaffre?”

“Cas.”

“Cas,” she repeated. “I don’t get it. You’re not the dad with all the money, are you?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. “No, Ambyr. But I’m just as much their dad as he is.”

Her voice got quiet, as though Raphael might have secretly flown in from Europe and could hear her. “You’re twice the dad he is, Cas. Please don’t ever say I said so. I’ll call you a liar. But it’s true. Thérèse tells me about all the things you do with them, and places you go, and games you play, and the books you read with them. Jack doesn’t tell me he wants to be like Mr. Zaffre. He wants to be just like you. For what it’s worth. I’m sure Mr. Zaffre is a great dad. But he’s not the one who’s calling to check on them.”

Castiel smiled softly. “I miss them.”

“I can tell. And they miss you too. They want to see their other dad. But their eyes light up when you call.”

Tears stung his eyes, and he found he didn’t have an answer for that.

“Anyway, thank you. I’d love to take them out for some fresh air tomorrow morning. They need an adventure.”

“You’d fit right in at our house, Ambyr,” he promised.

After he had said goodnight to his children, Castiel lay on the bed alone in silence for a long time. He stared into the dark, until the tears edged their way out. He swiped them away in annoyance.

“Feeling sorry for yourself, Castiel?”

It was Raphael’s incredible deep voice. It was always Raphael’s voice. “Shut up.”

“It’s pathetic. Too much sentiment was always your problem. Too much self-pity.”

Castiel glowered through the tears and stubbornly refused to wipe them away again. “I hate you so much, Raph. So much.”

There was that long-suffering sigh of Raphael's, the one he heaved whenever he was completely exasperated with how stupid and childish Castiel was. “Then why did you marry me?”

He turned onto his side, as though he could still put his back to his husband. “You know why.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Castiel, take responsibility for your own actions, and take control of your own emotions.”

The tears flowed over the bridge of his nose onto his pillow. He clamped his eyes shut. “I loved you,” he cried hoarsely. “All right? I was in love with you, you controlling, humorless bitch.”

“And whose fault is that?”

He began to laugh bitterly. Even his ghost Raphael was a prick. “Mine,” he sighed. “Entirely mine. I was a kid. You were older and so sophisticated, you just swept me away. You were powerful and dangerous, and gorgeous, and I fell for you. And I spent fifteen years so grateful that you married me that it didn't occur to me that what we had wasn't a partnership. It wasn't until we found the kids that I realized...I realized you had no respect for me at all.”

“What were you that a man like me could possibly respect?”

He swallowed against the tightening throat. “In all those years, every time something went wrong between us, I apologized. You were so perfect. If there was something wrong, it had to be me. If I said something you disagreed with, surely I was in the wrong. You were older, better educated, powerful. You made me think I was nothing.”

Social gatherings were horrible. Castiel was hardly a social butterfly as it was, and his anxiety ate away at him as soon as an event appeared on the horizon. He was a fraud in a dark suit, especially a tuxedo. In Raphael's world, among French and Italian eccentrics and American celebrities, no one blinked an eye at the fact that Raphael's spouse was male. But they were certainly quick to judge in every other way. Castiel had spent whole days trying not to throw up as he anticipated the evening to come.

Embarrassing Raphael was literally the worst thing Castiel could have imagined back then.

Even when Thérèse came along, Castiel walked as if on broken glass. He rocked the baby all night some nights, to keep her from crying and waking Raphael. Raphael was the one who made the money, the one who gave them everything. The least Castiel could do was train the baby not to wake him. If she cried, it clearly meant that Castiel was ill-suited to parenting, that he had neglected a basic need of some sort. After all, babies did not cry for no reason. If Castiel weren't so stupid, if he weren't prioritizing his own silly, childish emotions over the needs of their daughter, she wouldn't be crying at three in the morning.

The fact that, two years later, Jack also suffered the same neglect, solidified Raphael's opinion of his husband's incompetence. But by then, Castiel had discovered a strength of his own that he had not been aware of before. Thérèse had given him that, had shown him that he could be decisive, that he could trust his own judgement, even over Raphael's. Castiel was not the weaker of the two men. Raphael was not necessarily the smarter.

That had been a disaster for his marriage.

Their whole world was built on the assumption that Raphael's word was law, that Castiel had no right to question. Doubt was the gateway to disobedience, and disobedience was unacceptable. There was no room in their marriage for discussion. When Castiel recognized his own merit, he began to question everything. That new confidence had ended his marriage.

“I deserve to be more than you let me be, Raph,” he murmured to the empty room. “I deserve to put myself and my children first. I miss a lot of what we had. But I don't miss how you made me feel about myself. I'd rather be lonely.”

***

Jessica completed her order online, and sat back to smile. “There you go, Sam. After this, I refuse to feel guilty about us any more. I want you to be happy. We loved each other, but we couldn't make each other happy. Each of us has to do that separately. Good luck, Sam.”

She closed her laptop and got back into bed, and lay her head gently onto the bare chest beside her, and felt strong arms wrap around her waist.

“You okay?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I really am. Think you're ready to talk to Sam?”

He opened his eyes and glanced down at her. “What?”

Jessica smiled softly. “Let's do this. Let's make this official. Get married. Have a baby.”

His dark eyes lit up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she responded. “Yeah, I'm ready.”

His grin was gorgeous. “God, Jess. I don't want to hurt Sam, but I love you so much. I would have waited forever, you know.”

“I know. And of course we don't want to hurt him. But this is our life, and we need to do what's best for us.”

“I love you so much.”

She settled in beside him, and let a wave of peace wash over her, relief at having made the decision she knew was right. “I love you too, Kevin.”

***

Lee checked his watch. Two hours had passed since he had found what he was looking for. He had been hunting for months for this monster. He had been alarmed to find Jessica Moore-Winchester at the same bar, but she had not known him, and he had convinced her and her friend to head home in cabs not long after he had inserted himself into the conversation.

Nothing would end this hunt faster than his prey being spooked by a former sister-in-law. He had Mina Chandler, alias Bela Talbot, in his sights, and he wasn't going to lose her this time. Lisa Winchester was paying him far too well to screw this up when he was so close.


	5. The Other Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't need you to worry for me  
> 'Cause I'm all right.  
> I don't need you to tell me  
> It's time to come home.  
> I don't care what you say anymore-  
> This is my life.  
> Go ahead with your own life;  
> Leave me alone!  
> ~Billy Joel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never said you had to offer me  
> A second chance.  
> I never said I was a victim  
> Of circumstance.  
> I still belong.  
> Don't get me wrong.  
> And you can speak your mind,  
> But not on my time.  
> ~Billy Joel

Raphael was on his way to the airport. His driver had tried to chat, but he had cut that off with a curt snap in Italian. Pretending not to speak French annoyed him to the core, but it was, at times, quite helpful in finding a bit of peace. It wasn't as though the driver was anyone he needed to impress, nor anyone who could appreciate his finesse with four languages anyway.

It was really three. Portuguese just didn't roll off his tongue the way his mother’s Italian and his father’s French always had. But he was conversational in Rio on his best days, so he liked to count Portuguese as well.

He tapped on his phone for a while, then sat back to watch Paris roll by. He didn't know when he would be back, perhaps not for a few months, and he didn't want to spend the last of the scenery staring at his flight details on his screen.

Last night had been one of those very long evenings that caused him to miss his husband’s company, no matter how he fought against such a thing. Castiel’s light sense of humor and drive to please him was refreshing after a day spent in negotiations. Castiel was incurably childish, but sometimes it was nice to listen to the younger man’s small pleasures and interests, after seeing to his own larger, more important matters. Castiel had always provided a fine diversion while on business in New York and Paris. He was a comfort in the morning, piecing together Raphael’s suits and agenda for the day, making the coffee, because he knew Raphael preferred the way he did it instead of using the hotel coffee bars. He was a delight in the evening, filling Raphael’s brooding silence with chatter about light topics such as the botany conferences Castiel attended during his days spent alone, and the gardens he found around the cities. Raphael rarely listened to the details; it wasn't necessary. But he enjoyed the lilt of pleasure in his husband’s voice when he spoke of these trivial things. And of course at night, Castiel was quite adept at relieving Raphael's tension and stress in the best of ways.

After the night club in Turkey, Raphael had been forced to limit Castiel’s excursions while traveling. Even now, years later, it made his blood boil to think of the way he had arrived late to find two wealthy men vying for Castiel's attention. He had watched for a time, had seen the way Castiel had smiled politely and shaken his head at the first, who offered him absinthe and cigarettes, and the second, who kept trying to indicate that he should ascend to a private room upstairs with him. Castiel did not speak the language, but it wasn't difficult to guess at the intentions of these men. Raphael had been livid. He had pushed through the crowd after the first man returned to offer another drink, and had grabbed Castiel's wrist.

“You're leaving!” he said in a way that left no room for discussion.

Those impossible, innocent blue eyes had blinked at him. “What? Why? Raph?”

He had not trusted himself to speak until they had reached the valet. While his car was being fetched, he turned his wrath on his husband. “You are not to be out in an unfamiliar city without me after dark.”

Castiel had stared. “Raph, you...you told me to meet you here. I-I didn't mean to get here before you. I thought you said eight o’clock!” He frowned down at the ground in confusion. “I'm sure you said eight. You said you weren't going to make it for dinner, so I should eat and come here to meet-”

Raphael had released his wrist at last. “It isn't the point, Castiel. I see now that you don't have the head to be alone in a city after dark.” Perhaps there was hurt in those big blue eyes, but Raphael steeled himself against it. It was his job to protect his husband, and he had to be firm in his decisions. “Do you understand me?”

He had nodded and shrugged a little. “Yeah. I -I understand. I just don't know what I did wrong. If you don't tell me, how will I know not to make the same mistake again?”

Raphael's eyes were sharp, as was his voice. “You won't make any mistake, because you'll obey my wishes.”

Castiel flinched. But he tried to nod again.

The older man sighed heavily. He knew Castiel was trying. It wasn't even truly his fault that he was so naïve. Raphael couldn't expect him to know what dangers there were out there in the night life of a major city such as this. He reached out and combed his fingers through Castiel's dark hair. “It's all right, sweetheart,” he murmured. “It isn't your fault. It's my fault. I should keep a closer eye on you.”

Castiel had looked at him with hurt dissolving into devotion, and it had pleased him. “I'm sorry, Raph. I'll listen better.”

He treated the man to a rare smile and kissed his forehead lightly. “This is why I chose you,” he sighed.

Just as the car came about, he saw the way the praise lit Castiel's face. It was all he ever needed to say to his husband. It spoke to Castiel's need to please. It was just six words, and it encompassed everything good about their marriage.

Then Castiel had changed. He had become obstinate, unapologetic. He had made decisions regarding the house and children without consulting Raphael. It had exasperated Raphael beyond words. They had never argued in their first years of marriage. Things had been smooth as silk, and Raphael had liked it that way. It was the way it was supposed to be, and they had both been happier. For the life of him, he could not explain Castiel's transformation. It had ruined everything.

The last straw for Raphael had been Castiel's insistence upon the silly greenhouse. He had let the man get his graduate degree, had paid for him to attend all the conferences and keep up with all the journals. For their anniversary one year, he had flown them to some botanical garden his secretary had researched, and Castiel had been beside himself with delight. Raphael encouraged his husband’s hobbies. But it made no sense for Castiel to hold a job when there was so much travel required for Raphael's work. Raphael had mandated very early on that Castiel be available at all times to be at Raphael's side when he traveled. So when Castiel brought up the small business he wanted to dabble in, Raphael had naturally thought he was joking, and had laughed.

Castiel had stormed out of the house.

It was entirely unacceptable. Raphael had been clear that the idea of Castiel committing to any sort of employment or business venture before Raphael himself retired was out of the question. For Castiel to now fly off the handle in such an emotional, childish way, about such a ridiculous idea...It was just too much.

Raphael sighed out at Paris now. At times like these, he caught himself wondering if he should have given in to Castiel's little project. It wouldn't have lasted more than a few months if he had done it while married. In very little time, Castiel would have seen how foolish he was being, and apologized, and the whole thing would have been out of his system. Raphael could have hired a full time nanny for the children, taken a bit off Castiel's plate. Perhaps then, these silly ideas would have faded away, and they could have gone back to what they were before: happy and comfortable.

It probably wasn't too late. Castiel was emotional and juvenile, but he could be reasoned with. Raphael could show some interest in the greenhouse and flower shop, at least until Castiel gave it up. Raphael could help him find a new hobby.

Yes. Perhaps he would call up Castiel when he got home. He would surprise him, maybe, with his favorite flowers, and he would do something it had never occurred to him before to do. Perhaps he would apologize. It would be a nice gesture.

***

The money was running out.

It had never happened to Bela before. She blamed Sam Winchester. On his own, Dean would never have known to lock down most of his accounts, and he wouldn't have suspected that she might target the business accounts as well. Dean was a smart man, but there was a reason she had set her claws into him instead of his brother. Engaged or not, Bela could have plucked Sam like a lute if she had chosen to do so. But Sam was more shrewd, and he kept watch over the family's assets in a way Dean didn't.

And Dean had been the vulnerable one. When the patriarch had died, Bela had been searching for just the right obituary. She had hit upon John Winchester’s, had done a bit of research on the family, and had packed her reddest lipstick, her highest heel, and her Walther PPK/s pistol. Dean had hardly stood a chance.

But now it was time to do something Bela had never wanted to do. She had to drink from the same spring twice.

It was going to be quite the challenge. But she was out of options. She had made a poor investment, and Lucien and Lilith Zaffre were not the type of people anyone wanted to owe money to. If she had the time, she would find a new victim, but she didn't. Dean was her best chance. She knew him. She knew how to play him. She knew how to turn his head around. Best of all, he was remarried, so after she seduced him, she would have all the blackmail fuel she needed. The Winchester well was deep, and if she played everything right, she could pay off Lilith, and still have plenty left to tide her over until she could find her fifth husband.

Bela was using her second favorite alias, Mina currently. She would have to return to Bela in order to work Dean over. Then she would abandon both Bela and Mina forever. It was time for something new. Kary had been the wife of her first husband, a sweet waitress who scored an impressive tip. Alex had been the second wife of her second husband, who thought he had swept her off her feet at a fundraiser ball. Mina had married the third man, and had disappeared after the honeymoon. Bela had admittedly been fond of number four. Dean had been an adventure. So it was challenging, but no hardship to be on her way toward seducing him again. Angry sex had always been their specialty, and she knew better than anyone that Dean remained a very, very angry man.

Abby licked her lips as she thought of it. She didn't mind being Bela again at all.


	6. Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now the race is on and here comes pride up the backstretch  
> Heartaches are going to the inside  
> My tears are holding back  
> They're trying not to fall  
> My heart's out of the running  
> True love's scratched for another's sake  
> The race is on and it looks like heartaches  
> And the winner loses all
> 
> ~George Jones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel tears wellin' up cold and deep inside  
> Like my heart's sprung a big break  
> And the stab of loneliness, sharp and painful  
> That I may never shake  
> Now you might say that I was taking it hard  
> Since you wrote me off with a call  
> But don't you wager that I'll hide the sorrow  
> When I may break right down and bawl
> 
> ~George Jones

On Thursday morning, three things took place nearly at the same time. Raphael Zaffre’s plane touched down in Atlanta, and he decided to make a phone call during his layover. Lisa Winchester got a text message from a contact that made her smile. Castiel Zaffre checked his orders upon arriving at the shop early, and he caught his breath in his throat. 

Immediately after, three more things happened at about the same moment. Castiel missed a phone call while staring at the computer screen. Dean Winchester picked up his wife's phone to check the time while she was in the shower getting ready for work, and saw a text message that made him frown. Kevin Tran checked the boards at the hospital to find an hour block of time when he and Sam were not in a room but on call, so he could talk to him in private. 

Around the same time, Jessica Moore-Winchester unlocked the door to her office, trying to focus on all the paperwork she needed to get through that day, rather than the looming conversation between her ex-husband and her new fiancé. Bela Talbot was hearing her rights read to her, and cursing under her breath in her pretty accent. And Thérèse Zaffre woke up crying for her Papa. 

Sam Winchester was asleep in the on-call room when his phone rang. 

With a great groan, he sat up. It took some time to realize what had awoken him. His pager would have sent him hurrying to the desk before he was even fully awake, but he wasn't sure what this horrible noise was. He rubbed his eyes, then rolled them. “Right. Phone.” He answered it just as it would have stopped ringing. “Hello. What?”

“You awake?” his brother growled. 

He let his forehead drop into his hand. “Totally. I had to get up to answer the phone.”

“Good. Why are you echoing?”

“I'm at work. In…” He began to yawn. “In the on-call. What time is it?”

“Sammy, I'm losing my mind.”

He squinted at the clock on the wall. “Clearly. It's not even eight o’clock.” Some quick math revealed that meant Sam had only been asleep two hours. “What's going on?”

“I'm overreacting, and I need you to tell me I'm overreacting. And prove it too, if possible.”

He cleared his throat and sat back against the couch. “Yeah, okay. Tall order for a guy that played around with another guy's left ventricle till four this morning, for another surgeon who wasn't well, and then proceeded to take out said surgeon’s appendix when he showed up on a slab an hour later. But, yeah. I got about fifteen minutes before my shift. Lay it on me. What's messing up your morning?”

“Wow. You are a bitch.”

He sighed. “I'm sorry. I'm tired. I worked all day, then got called in last night, and I got another chest to open later this morning. Kevin might have to hold my eyes open along with the guy’s ribcage. But I'm listening. What's going on?”

“Jesus. I'm sorry, man. It's...it's no big…”

“It's obviously a big deal. Just spit it out.” He frowned then, as consciousness began to catch up with him. “Something wrong with Ben?”

“No! No. He's perfect. The perfect freaking kid. Best kid I ever knew except my little brother, and not half so bitchy. No, Ben’s perfect. It's me. I think I'm losing Lisa.”

Sam took a deep breath. Dean became convinced about every other month that he was losing his wife. But as much as Sam knew it wasn't true, he also knew that it was Dean’s worst nightmare, and he had to treat it like an emergency every time. “Okay. What's going on?”

Dean hurried to describe his concerns about Thursdays, about how Lisa had a half day at work, but never came home until her normal time.

“Dean, she said she's getting massages and her nails done. She's just-”

“But this morning? I found a text from a guy.”

Sam opened his eyes, which had slipped closed again. “Why are you checking her messages?” he asked quietly. 

Dean’s voice was a little shrill. “I wasn't! I swear I wasn't. But it came up on her phone when I went to check the time.”

“You were checking the time on her phone. Why?”

“It was lying on the bed! I don't know! Is that really the point?”

Sam knew he had to tread lightly. But he couldn't back down yet. “It might be,” he said with caution, “if you're turning into an obsessive husband who is stalking his own wife.”

“What?! Of course not! That's ridiculous! I'm not the one still sending thousands of dollars in flowers to my ex every month!”

Hazel eyes narrowed sharply. In his periphery, he saw Kevin slip into the room, and he lowered his voice. Not much, though. Kevin was sure to get an earful of this conversation later anyway. Who else did he have to bitch to? “That's none of your business,” he snarled. “I don't send flowers to Jess because I'm stalking her.”

“Then what do you send them for?”

“I know I've lost my wife. And I miss her like hell, but we're divorced for a reason. She doesn't want me. And if you really want my advice? You better stop pushing your luck with Lisa, or she's going to stop wanting you too. You think she's going to leave? Stop pushing her away! If I had with Jess what you have with Lisa, somebody would have cared that I spent all night on a couch in the on-call room at the hospital. Somebody would have cared I never made it home last night. And you better believe it hurts like hell, so you go to Lisa right now, and tell her what you did, tell her what you saw, and tell her you're fucking sorry.”

There was silence on the line. 

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. “Dean, I'm sorry. Okay? But, man, listen. I got nothing but my work. You? You got your family, man. And they love you. I send flowers to Jess because I don't know how to stop. If I stop, I...I've got nobody. I've already got nobody. But it feels like…”

Dean heaved an identical sigh. “I know. It feels like you've still got a bridge to what could've been.”

Tears were blurring his vision before he realized they were coming. He sputtered a laugh. “Wow. Yeah, that's...that's it exactly. You know, we've been separated for a year and three months. It's been…” He swallowed down the feeling that what he was about to say was sacrilege. “It's been a long time since it was really Jess that I missed. You know? I just think if I burn that bridge, I'll never get another chance. I mean...Dean, what are the odds that you and I both get the chance to try again? To fall in love again and…and to try to be happy again? I'm glad you've got it. If it were going to happen for either of us, I'm glad you got the second chance. But that's why you can't screw it up. Okay? You and Lisa are the second chance in this family. And I'm not going to let you ruin it with paranoia.”

“I'm just so scared of losing them,” Dean whispered hoarsely. 

“I know. I know you are. But, you gotta trust her, man. She's not Bela. And you aren't even the same guy who married Bela. And you're Lisa’s second chance too. Don't forget that. If she can trust you with her kid, you can trust her with your heart. Whatever was in that text, forget it. Don't look for trouble that ain't there, or you'll make some.” Sam laughed sadly. “You gotta make this work, because, Dean, I'm hanging on by a thread here, and you're the one I'm looking up to. You gotta prove to me there's life after a first marriage, that there's something waiting for me one day. I'm so tired of being lonely, man. Don't lose what you got. Please.”

“I'm so sorry, Sammy.”

“Don't be sorry. Stop talking to me and start really talking to her. How many chances do you think you're going to get, man?”

“Something will come along for you too, man. Just keep your eyes open. Let that bridge burn, and build a new one. If you hold too tight to what could've been, you won't see anything that could be.”

He snorted softly. “Yeah. You too.”

“I will if you will.”

Sam smiled. “Yeah. Okay, big brother. I gotta break open a guy's chest in a half hour. I should've scrubbed already. You take care of you. I'll see you Sunday maybe.”

“Get some sleep.”

“Yeah.”

Sam hung up and turned to find Kevin staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. The younger man cleared his throat. “Sam? You...you really think you're not missing Jess anymore? That...that maybe you're just lonely?”

He groaned. “Jesus, Kev. Stop trying to psychoanalyze-”

“Because I need your blessing to marry Jess. I'm in love with her. And she...she loves me.”

Sam didn't even feel the impact when his fist crashed into Kevin Tran’s face.


	7. Something Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are my sunshine  
> My only sunshine.  
> You make me happy  
> When skies are gray.  
> You'll never know, Dear,  
> How much I love you.  
> Please don't take  
> My sunshine away.  
> ~Willie Nelson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other night, Dear,  
> As I lay sleeping,  
> I dreamed I held you  
> In my arms.  
> But when I awoke, Dear,  
> I was mistaken.  
> So I hung my head down  
> And cried.  
> ~Willie Nelson

While Kevin Tran was peeling himself off the floor of the on-call room across the city, Castiel found his hands shaking slightly as he prepared to fill his orders for the day. He chewed on his lip relentlessly for nearly an hour, until his one employee finally called him out on it.

“Hey! Castiel. What's eating you, huh?”

He had startled at the voice. Joshua didn't speak much in general. He sighed. “I don't know. It's stupid.”

Joshua moved about the greenhouse as though he owned it; he was the only one Castiel trusted to even touch his plants, and he was oddly comfortable letting Joshua take charge in his absence. Joshua was a master, the only one who knew the art of growing beautiful things as well as Castiel himself knew the science of it. They were a good team. “I doubt that,” the older man said in his soft, hoarse voice.

Castiel snorted. “Why? Because I never do anything stupid?”

Joshua shook his head and went about clipping several stems to fill an order. “No. You do plenty of stupid things.”

It was strangely refreshing to talk with Joshua. He was the only one who didn't pretend Castiel wasn't hopeless. “Thank you,” he said dryly. He continued arranging on the large wooden table.

“But you aren't stupid. You do stupid things because you don't listen to your own brain and heart, Castiel. Your brain is good. Your heart is good. And you always do the opposite of whatever they tell you. So? What's bothering you that you think is stupid?”

He smiled down at the white lilies. “They're gorgeous, Joshua.”

“Yup.”

“Going to a funeral.”

“Not surprised.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “They'll be on display, so people have something to look at other than their loved one in a box. And then they'll be left behind, and the funeral home will donate them to a hospital, so someone will have something to smell other than their own mortality.”

“You're cheery this morning.”

He smirked. “I'm sorry. I'm just in a weird mood. Not enough sleep.”

“Your kids are with him this week, aren't they?”

His gaze was weary as it stared down at the delicate white petals. “How can you tell?”

Joshua shrugged and pruned a brown leaf from a rose. “You're miserable.”

“Joshua, do you think it's selfish for a man like me, with my kids, my business, to want something more? It's greedy, right? I'm doing well. I should be happy with what I've got.”

“You're grateful for what you got. Not the same thing.” The gardener lay a bunch of roses at the table in front of him, and looked him in the eyes. “Castiel, you're a smart man. But you know what I think?”

He braced himself for Joshua’s characteristic bluntness.

“I know you're not a religious man per se, but I am. And I think if God resurrected you out of something, gave you a shot at another, better life, you'd be damn stupid not to do something with it. Those babies of yours, they deserve a happy papa. And you shouldn't leave it to God either. He's done His part, gave you the strength to remake yourself when you were left with nothing. It's not His problem what you do or don't do with His gift of a second chance. If you want to do right by those babies, and you want to show some gratitude for what you've been given, you owe it to all of you to make yourself happy. And you got something in mind that can get you there; I can see it on your face. So let me deliver these today, just this once, and you take your weird mood, and go do something about it.”

Castiel gave a surprised laugh. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Except...the last order. I'll take that one myself.”

“The special blue hydrangeas with white alstroemerias and lilies? Here. Add a white rose. I'll get another for this group.”

He felt a hot blush fill his cheeks. “A, uh, a blue vase, you think?”

Joshua watched him a moment. “For a man? Yeah. Limonium, purple statice. Salal too. It'll accent it well. Strong, bold colors, but soft enough too.”

“Eucalyptus too much?”

The older man smiled. “Perfect. Give me some time. Some we got here, some I gotta get. But it'll be perfect. Give you the confidence you need.”

It was amazing the way Joshua seemed to know exactly what Castiel needed. The client had chosen the bouquet, but he was the artist who would create it from a piece of his own soul, and he was the one who would see it delivered. It never actually mattered if the recipient was pleased with his creation. Castiel knew when he had done excellent work. When his flowers were truly breathtaking, when he was confident in his art, he was confident in himself by extension. How Joshua knew this, he wasn't sure. But he smiled as they set to work on the piece of his soul that had been ordered as a gift to Dr. Winchester at Memorial.

***

Lisa swept into the room with a grin of accomplishment on her face. “Dean-”

To her shock, the man scooped her entirely off the floor into his arms in one strong, graceful motion. Without a word, he placed on her lips a kiss like they hadn't shared since the night he had proposed. It literally took her breath away.

“Dean!” she sighed out.

He steadied her on her feet again, and took her face in both hands to descend again in a passionate embrace before she even had her balance back. She felt his fingers in her dark hair, others brushing gently along her throat to make her shiver, and his warm body pressed against hers. He hummed happily as she melted into him.

Her news could wait, she decided. She didn't know what had happened to bring on such attention from her husband, but Lisa was not about to give it up. No matter how tense things had been between them, for months, Lisa was undeniably, incurably in love with this man, and everything about this kiss screamed gleefully that everything was going to be all right. She hadn't thought it possible, but in that moment, she fell even deeper into love with Dean.

When, at last, he lifted his chin to rest on her head, she heard him whispering. “Lise? I love you so much. Thank you for trusting me with Ben. Thank you for letting me trust you with my heart.”

Her chest seized with emotion, and her balance failed her.

But just as she knew he would, Dean was ready to catch her in strong arms, and hold her safe. “Lise?” he murmured fretfully. “You all right? Are you still angry? Because I'm really, really sorry I've been crazy. This isn't me, Lisa. I don't want to be this paranoid, possessive man. You deserve better than that. And Bela didn't make me this way. I'm going to own up, and I'm going to make it all better. I promise you. I trust you. I've always trusted you. I just didn't trust me, and I'm going to work on that. Okay? If you can trust me with Ben…” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Lise, I will never stop being grateful that you love me. But you didn't just love me. You made me family. And I'm going to step up and be the family you and Ben seem to think I am.”

Lisa gazed up at him in complete adoration. A tiny giggle rippled out of her, and loosened her chest just enough for her to speak. “It's about time you caught up with the rest of us.”

A handsome smile sought to knock her over again, but he held her firm. “Thank you for being patient. And...and you might still need to be a little patient now and then. But I talked to Sam, and I think…” Dean closed his eyes and forced his words out. “Lise, I think I need some help. Okay? So I can be there for you and Ben. I'm going to find someone, like a doctor or somebody to talk to. I keep thinking everything would just be all right if they caught Bela. But Bela isn't what's coming between me and you. She's making things worse, and I'd like to kill her for it. But I think…”

Lisa searched his face with hope, until at last the green eyes opened again, sparkling with tears.

“I think I maybe still haven't dealt with some stuff from even before her, and...and maybe I need to do that so I can move on and be a hundred percent for you and Ben. You know? Stuff between, you know, me and my dad, and...and just the way I always thought…” He choked out the words at last, words she knew he had never been able to say before. “I always thought maybe the only thing I was ever good for was following his orders, and when he left me without any...I guess I just got lost. So...so I'm going to try to find my own way now, find somebody to talk to, and love you and Ben the best I know how. Maybe if I do that, deal with stuff, I'll get better at it over some time. Do I...Do I still have time to try again?”

She lifted herself onto her toes to kiss his lips gently. “Dean, I will be with you every step of the way. When it gets hard, you can bet you're going to need me to help you kick it in the ass. And I need you kissing me like that and reminding me that things are going to be okay. You, me, Ben? As long as we stay strong, and keep grinding, even when it gets tough, nothing will come between us. I want my son to see how a good, strong man reaches out for help when he needs it, that being hurt is no reason to not try again.”

Dean nodded. “I love you,” he murmured again.

Lisa’s grin had once stopped Dean Winchester mid-stride, and made him stumble into his own car’s open door. She had been admiring the car parked outside the gym, but when she noticed its owner falling over himself, she had admired that too. She flashed the same smile at him now, and relished the happy sigh he made in its wake. “Good. Because I came in here to tell you you're taking me out to dinner. Ben’s going to my sister’s, and you and I are going to celebrate.”

He watched her boundless energy in awe. “Celebrate what?”

Her grin took on a satisfied, almost wicked pleasure. “Bela Talbot was arrested this morning.”

The look on her husband’s face was worth every dime she owed Lee Chambers.

“Come on. We need to meet up with someone and cut him a check before you take me to dinner. He earned it.”

***

Sam's hand ached, but he wasn't about to tell Kevin that. “Watch his blood pressure.”

“Yes, Doctor,” the man mumbled somewhat nasally.

“Prepare to close,” he added some time later.

“Yes, sir.”

Sam rolled his eyes. He wanted to throw his instruments, but he had slightly more self-discipline than that. “Kevin, knock it off,” he snapped. “You've been nothing but yes-sir and yes-Doctor for the last three hours. I'm sick of it.”

He could see Kevin’s bruised eyes scowling over his mask. “What do you want me to say?”

The surgeon sighed. “I don't know. Fuck you?”

The eyebrows shot up. “Why would I say that?”

“Because I'm the asshole that punched you in the nose before scrubbing in? Because you could bring me up on charges, legal or professional or both?”

Kevin shook his head. His hands were busy working, and a reluctant part of Sam was still pleased with the way the two of them had worked together as they always had, the way that had made them the best team in the hospital. “I deserved it,” he said at last. “I just couldn't...You knew I had heard the conversation with your brother. You let me hear it, because...because other than Dean, I'm your best friend. And I just couldn't let you think…”

“That you weren't screwing my ex-wife?”

The dark eyes narrowed again. “Sam,” he said in a soft, warning tone.

He sighed.

“I couldn't not tell you. Till then, I could tell myself I was just respecting Jessica’s wishes by keeping things between us. But after hearing that, and knowing you let me hear it...If I pretended nothing was going on, it was just wrong. Even if she hadn't decided to let me tell you, I would have. And that might not have been the best time, but it would have been wrong to wait any longer. If you hate me, I understand. But I had to tell you the truth.”

“Clamp,” Sam ordered quietly.

Kevin obeyed without even thought. “We didn't do it to hurt you, man. God, Sam, you're the last person in the world I'd want to hurt. And Jess loves you; she really does.”

He swallowed hard, and worked in silence for another few minutes.

“Sam?” Kevin whispered.

“Give me a minute. This is tricky.”

“Yes, sir.” The tech hurried to assist without needing direction from Sam.

A slow smile came over him, and with it, a wash of relief. He concentrated on the end of the procedure, and before long, they had closed and Kevin was reporting vitals into the record. Sam took a deep breath, and followed up with his own record.

The younger man’s eyes smiled grimly. “That was a bitch,” he said as he took his instruments for sterilization after the patient had been removed for post-op.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “He's lucky he got the best team.”

Kevin looked up, and the hope on his face made Sam's heart ache. “Yeah?”

“Kev, you're the best attendant I've ever worked with. You know that.”

He shrugged. “I guess I figured this would be our last one. That you'd find another tech after today.”

Sam set about scrubbing down, and after attending to his instruments, Kevin joined him. They were quiet.

Finally, they looked at one another, locked eyes for the first time in hours, from a height difference of over half a foot. Sam smiled softly. “I realized as we were cleaning and closing that you're a great partner. And that's what I want for Jess. I won't say I'm not hurt.”

Kevin winced as though he had been hit again.

“And I'm obviously pissed at you for not telling me. But if I honestly want Jess to be happy, if I honestly care about you, this is the best of all situations. The best of all horrible, awkward, unfair, fucked up situations.”

The attending tech began to smile slowly. “You going to let me run my instrument tray? Hand you things again?”

Sam shook his head. “Give me a little time, okay? I'm still trying not to see this as you taking something from me. But...Kev, I lost Jess without any help from you. Just...just promise I'm not going to lose my partner too.”

Kevin nodded quickly. “I'm so sorry it happened like this.”

“Yeah. Me too. But...but it was going to happen. At least I know she's with a guy who will treat her well.”

“You mean a guy whose nose you can break if necessary.”

“That too.”

They looked at one another in exhausted silence, then Kevin shrugged. “I'm going to go ice my damn face, you bastard.”

Sam smirked. “Little late for that. Raccoon.”

“Moose.”

He had gathered his things and was finishing the last of the paperwork on the procedure, when he heard someone at the desk call his name with a tone of surprise. He sighed. There were no more scheduled surgeries on his caseload today, so if whatever this was got in the way of him getting sleep while on call, he was probably going to have to hit someone again. Probably Kevin. He seemed like a good choice.

When Sam finally ventured out to the nurses’ station to find out what the fuss was, his lethal scowl melted right off his face.

“Oh,” he said stupidly.

A pair of stunning blue eyes turned on him, and it caught his breath in his throat. A handsome man holding a gorgeous vase of flowers smiled shyly at him. “Doctor, um...Dr. Winchester? I have a, uh, delivery. For you.”

Sam took the card the man held out for him, and he noticed the tiny tremor in his hand. A soft sigh and smile came over him as he read the message.

_Figured it was time I sent you something pretty. And I know you like blue. ~Jess_

He nodded quietly, then looked up with curiosity. “Sam,” he corrected finally. “Call me Sam.”


	8. Rusty Skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll get by,  
> But no matter how I try  
> They'll be times  
> You know I'll call  
> Chances are my tears will fall  
> And I'll have no pride at all  
> From time to time.  
> ~Richey, Sherrill & Wynette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I ain't saying  
> It's right or its wrong,  
> But maybe it's the only way.  
> Talk about your revolution.  
> It's Independence Day. 
> 
> Let freedom ring  
> Let the white dove sing  
> Let the whole world know that today  
> Is a day of reckoning!  
> Let the weak be strong.  
> Let the right be wrong.  
> Roll the stone away,  
> Let the guilty pay.  
> It's Independence Day. 
> 
> ~Martina McBride

Sam was far better looking in person than on Jessica’s tiny phone screen. It was quite intimidating for an average looking, divorced, awkward gay man in his thirties who had not been with more than one man since Clinton was in office.

He could feel his face losing color rapidly, and he sighed. Surely what he really needed in order to achieve that cool, sexy charm he had never commanded on his best day was a little extra gray in his skin tone. Or perhaps green. He was feeling a bit ill, which was always a great look for the eligible bachelor on the prowl. He was certain he had read somewhere that pale and sickly was the new black.

Castiel sighed again. It was the most intelligent noise he had made so far.

What the hell was he doing here? This man was a surgeon, a genius by all accounts, a gorgeous six freaking four genius surgeon, who had once been married to Jessica, a beautiful, genius junior partner in a law firm. What must he look like to a man like that?

Right on cue, he could hear Raphael’s deep voice in his head. _You look to him exactly the same as you looked to me, Castiel._

He flinched, and closed his eyes.

Why was he doing this to himself?

“Hey. You okay?”

Blue eyes snapped open. “Yes! I'm sorry.” He grabbed at his coffee and tried to convince himself it was vodka.

Sam smiled warmly. “Do you think it's weird that I asked you out for coffee?”

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he had fully thought them. “Of course it's weird. Have you seen you?”

And now he wanted to bite off his tongue. He was probably going to have to kill Jessica, which was a shame, since he had enjoyed her company. And possibly Joshua too, so he would never have to face him again after this utter failure. And maybe he should take the kids and move to Arizona while he was at it. He did so enjoy desert wildflowers, and he was certain no one had heard of him there.

Castiel poured scorching coffee down his throat, and imagined Thérèse and Jack getting their first look at all that sand to build cities out of.

But Sam was laughing. “I hope that was a compliment!” he huffed. “I haven't seen me all morning, but I'm pretty sure I look like death warmed over. I've been in six surgeries over the past twenty hours, and I've had less than two hours sleep. If you hadn't given me time to shower before meeting you down here, you would've smelled me coming.”

He grinned shyly into his cup. “This is you as death, huh? You make a very attractive zombie.”

It was something Raphael would have stared at him like he was an idiot for saying. Instead, Sam’s laugh became a cackle. It made Castiel's stomach warm. “That is the single weirdest compliment I've ever gotten. I'm getting it made into a tee shirt.”

“I'll include it in Halloween baskets this October.”

Sam's eyes sparkled from too far above him.

It took a moment to realize his naturally terrible posture was shrinking him down into a hunch on the cafe bench. He cleared his throat and straightened himself to a respectable position.

Raphael would have snapped at him long before now. _When you round your shoulders like that, Castiel, you're simply begging to be looked down upon. And nothing of mine will be looked down upon. Do you understand me?_

He swallowed hard. “I'm sorry,” he murmured in reflex.

Sam looked at him with a confused smile. “Sorry for what?”

Why was he doing this to himself? He stumbled to his feet. “I'm sorry, I...should go. For wasting your time. I'm sorry. You're tired, and I should go.”

He was juggling his coffee and wallet when Sam leapt to his feet and took hold of his arm. “Cas! Castiel, wait.”

Obedience was a relief. Obedience was a trap. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He was so tired. Had there ever been a time when he wasn't tired? Had there ever been a time that he had been able to think without that voice in his head telling him what was wrong with him? Wasn't he free to do as he pleased? Joshua’s God had given him his second chance, and he had free will to spend it as he liked. He didn't have to listen to stronger voices anymore. “I'm sorry,” he murmured again. He lifted his gaze from Sam's long fingers-and was that a bruise on his knuckles-and locked eyes with the man.

Sam chewed on his lip. “No, I'm sorry.” He sighed, and let go of Castiel's arm. “Look. Cas, I don't…” He began to laugh with a helpless shrug. “I don't remember how to do this,” he confessed.

The idea that Sam felt as awkward here as he did sent a jolt to Castiel's system. “Neither do I,” he breathed carefully.

Relief splashed across the weary, handsome face in the form of a genuine smile. “I don't remember how, but-but I’d like to try. I mean...maybe if we…”

“Both got some sleep?” He could hear the hope in his voice, and it sounded ridiculous.

But Sam nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great. We could do this right. Or…” He snorted and ran a hand through his hair. “Or at least we could not do it this badly. Maybe...dinner. Someplace. To eat.”

Castiel began to grin. “For a zombie, you've got a fantastically smooth pickup.”

A flush and shy snicker was his response. “Yeah? You want to give it a try?” he teased.

He lifted his hand and nearly dropped his wallet. He shoved it into his pocket for safekeeping. “No, no. You're doing just fine. Dinner someplace to eat. I'm with you. When?”

After details of place and time were worked out, and numbers exchanged, Castiel tried to figure out how to leave. When dating Raphael, that had never been an issue. Raphael had always been the first to turn away. He giggled awkwardly, and forced himself to move toward the exit.

Then he turned back to find Sam looking just as giddy and just as lost as he felt. “I have kids,” he blurted out. “Two. Four and two.”

Sam frowned. “Four or two?”

“Four and two.”

The doctor stared at him. “Six?”

His tension collapsed into a chuckle. “Two children. My girl is four, and my boy is two. Years old.”

Sam's face brightened then, even as it grew pinker. “Oh! Good! Yeah, I-Good. I like kids. You could bring them. We can pick a place they would like better. Maybe pizza or something?”

Suddenly, Castiel's heart seemed to be preventing him from taking a full breath. He felt affection wash over him in a wave. It wasn't the sharp, frightening exhilaration he had felt in his chest with Raphael all those years ago. This was a warm blanket, a comforting quiet, a soft sense of belonging. This was the home Raphael had never been. Sam's eyes and voice held sincerity and promise that Raphael's chill had never allowed.

“Cas?”

He swam back to the surface, and nodded. “They, uh, they're with their father this week. Till Sunday. But...maybe another time.”

Sam nodded too, and Castiel could see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “That's okay. We should get to know each other alone anyway.”

Castiel took in a deep breath through his nose, filled his lungs with warmth to see him through till their designated rendezvous time the next night. Then he smiled. “Enjoy your flowers, Doctor,” he said.

He could feel Sam's eyes on him as he strode out the door and into the beautiful day outside.


	9. Revolving Glass Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That'll be the day,  
> When you say goodbye.  
> That'll be the day,  
> When you make me cry.  
> You say you're gonna leave,  
> But you know it's a lie,  
> Because that'll be the day,  
> When I die.  
> ~Buddy Holly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you must go  
> I won't grieve.  
> If you wait a lifetime  
> Before you leave.  
> ~Neal McCoy

When Jess let herself into the house with the key he had never bothered to take back, it was a disturbingly familiar sound. It made Sam's stomach feel hollow. “Did you get my gift basket?” she asked as she sat down across from him, then leaned in to kiss his cheek.

Sam lifted his drink in a salute. “I did. And we will talk about that after another few drinks.” He sighed. “Jess, Kevin?”

She shrugged and bit into her lip.

He let his gaze drop to his glass. “How long, Jess?”

His ex-wife, his ex-everything, reached out and touched his wrist gently. “Not long. And we both fought against it. But you know as well as I do...You don't get to choose who you fall in love with.”

His heart was pounding, and his head was throbbing. “Yeah. I wouldn't have chosen it at all if I'd known.” He threw the glass back. The burn barely registered in his throat.

“Don't say that.”

When he looked up, her eyes were sparkling with tears. He cringed. “I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. But it hurts, Jess. I won't pretend it doesn't hurt.”

“You know I'll always love you.”

The tumbler sat empty in his palm, and he pointed at her with it. “Don't do that. Don't.”

In an instant, her tears were gone, and her eyes were flashing in defiance. It reminded him of every fight they had ever had. “Why?” she demanded. “Because you don't want to hear it? There are a lot of things you don't like to hear, but I feel them anyway.”

Sam's jaw clenched. “Yeah. I've heard a lot about what you feel today, and who you feel it for. God, Jess. I work with Kevin every day. How can I look at him, let him run my table, let him support me in a critical moment, when I know he woke up that morning with the only woman I ever loved? That relationship, Jess? Him and me? That's about trust every bit as much as a marriage should be. A surgeon and his attending tech...I only ever work with anyone else when he absolutely isn't available. In a tough procedure, I would rather run my own table than have anyone other than Kev. I rely on him, Jess.” He let the glass fall out of his hand and thunk onto the table. “God. Here I thought you had nothing left to take from me. Just when I thought I had nothing left to lose.”

Her voice was firm but not unkind. “Are you done?”

His eyes closed. “Why did it have to be Kevin, Jess? I lost everything in the divorce, everything that meant anything. I didn't know that included the guy that has my back while I'm inside other guys’ chests. He's my…” Sam let out a huff of laughter, which knocked loose several loathsome tears to fall into the table. He looked up in desperation. “He's my Impala, Jess.”

Very few people in the world would have understood that statement, and among those who could, there were even fewer who truly had any idea what it meant in the language of the Winchesters. Jess stared at him. When she spoke again, it was with a trembling voice this time. “God, Sam, I'm so sorry,” she hissed. She grabbed hold of both his hands. “Please. This...I know how horrible this whole thing is, but please. Sam, I love him. I can't change that. I couldn't stop it. And he…” At last, she began to sob.

Sam sniffed and blinked hard against his tears. He pictured Kevin’s eyes over the mask, bruised from taking the hit, but full of determination to be exactly what Sam needed him to be in that operating room. He smiled sadly. “And he's good to you,” Sam finished for her.

She nodded, though she could not speak.

He made himself squeeze her hands. “Yeah,” he relented. “I know he is. He's a good guy, Jess. And fearless. Kid could stare down the Devil. He’ll take good care of you.” His smile became more sincere, and he let her hands go to wipe her tears from her cheeks. “Please take good care of him.”

Jess sighed. “You want custody of him during the weekdays, I suppose.”

The two of them burst into relieved laughter, and the tension dissolved into mutual, albeit weary, fondness. Sam sat back heavily. “For what it's worth…”

“I know.”

“I would have loved you forever.”

“I know. And if that was all we needed, it would have been forever. Kevin makes me...I'm happy when I'm with him, Sam. And we…”

“We weren't. I know.”

Jess nodded. “We weren't,” she repeated. “Not just me, Sam. You weren't either.”

He was silent for a moment, then he lifted his eyebrow. “We had some fun, though, didn't we?”

“Tell me about Castiel, Sam.”

He eyed her with a wry expression. “What made you think I needed flowers?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What made you think I needed them all this time?”

Sam felt a flush rise up his throat. “I...I didn't. I just...It was the only thing I could still do. You know?” He cleared his throat. “You have excellent taste, by the way.”

A rush of relief exhaled from her lips. “In flowers or florists?” She winked at him. “I know what you like. The first time I saw him, all those months ago, I thought, if Sam knew what he was having delivered to me, he would send flowers to himself.” She stood and helped herself to his liquor cabinet. She pulled out a bottle of merlot and smiled. “Sam, we got this a very long time ago.”

Back when they were still forever, he thought. “Could taste like vinegar by now.”

“Could,” she agreed. “Do you work tomorrow morning?”

He watched her with a sort of aching admiration. “No,” he admitted, “but I've got a date tomorrow evening.”

She reached for a corkscrew, and made short work of the stoppage. “Let's toast the good old days. Then when we get halfway through, we’ll toast to new beginnings.”

“Better call Kevin to pick you up.”

“I could call Cas to pick you up,” she teased.

He laughed as he accepted his first glass. “Yeah. About that. I suck at flirting.”

“I know. I remember.”

The glare he sent her had no heat behind it. “Do you remember the time you tried to make me go to that Halloween party in college?”

That memory spawned others, and between the wine and the good old days, they found themselves laughing and teasing for several hours before Kevin knocked on the door. He and Sam met each other's eyes for a long moment, then Sam gave him a smile. “Get your girl home safe. And next time I'm called in and have to work a triple shift, your ass is coming in with me.”

Kevin grinned. “You got it, boss.”

He watched them drive away, and tried to close his eyes, but that made him feel dizzy, so he reached for his phone instead.

“Sammy?”

“Hey. How you doing? Did you talk to Lisa?”

“Yeah. You were right. I'll, uh, tell you details later on, over a beer, but...Lisa and I are going to be okay.”

Sam smiled weakly. “I'm glad. I'm really glad. I'm sorry I was so…” His gaze drifted down and caught sight of something lying on the kitchen counter. He sighed as he realized it was Jessica’s key to the house. “This hasn't been my best day ever.”

“I got something that'll make it a little better.”

Unless it was another glimpse at that beautiful, awkward florist who had given him the first sign of hope in over a year, Sam was pretty certain he didn't care. “Yeah? What is it?”

“They caught the psycho chick that shot you.”

Sam's eyes widened, and he felt a feral grin creeping into his face. “Son of a bitch.”

“That's what I said.”


	10. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just what I do when  
> I can't get no loving  
> Just what I do when  
> I can't get no loving.  
> I'm the first flyboy you ever saw.  
> 'Cause lately I ain't getting  
> No loving at all.  
> ~Trick Pony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not counting you  
> I've never had a heartache.  
> Not counting you  
> I never have been blue.  
> There's no exceptions to the rule  
> I've never been nobody's fool.  
> I've never lost in love  
> Not counting you.  
> ~Garth Brooks

The children were silent as they ate. Raphael was impressed. It appeared that Castiel had taken his words to heart and improved his discipline. The thought made him smile in pleasure, and he felt a little tug of fondness for the way Castiel always tried so hard to do as Raphael wished.

“Jacques, do you like your food?”

The little boy looked up with a startle. “No,” he admitted. “Papa makes pancakes.”

Thérèse glanced quickly at Raphael, then back at her brother. “But you like this too, Jack,” she urged. “You do.”

He sighed and shrugged.

Raphael smiled at her benevolently. “It's all right, Thérèse. Jacques doesn't have to like everything. He has to eat it. But he doesn't have to like it. We must all do things we don't like at times.”

“Yes, Père,” she chirped.

He sighed happily, and sat back. The children were dressed beautifully, in crisp matching outfits, with shoes neatly tied. Thérèse was in pretty pigtail braids, and her brother had recently gotten a haircut, which meant Castiel had remembered that Raphael deemed it too long last time.

Castiel.

The children ate their breakfast quietly, and he watched them, but his mind was drifting. The only thing missing in this picturesque scene was his husband attending to the two of them, getting up to refill glasses, making them all comfortable and content with his constant ministrations, while Raphael sat at the head of the table in peace to prepare for his day. It was the only thing missing. But it was a necessary piece of the picture.

Raphael called to the nanny.

Ambyr hurried into the room anxiously. “Yes, sir?”

“See that they finish their meals and begin their lessons. I will see them again for dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Without a glance behind, Raphael marched into his den, feeling confident and oddly proud of himself for having come to the correct conclusion. It was clear. Castiel would need to return. He and the children would need to move to this house, to live as a family again. It was right. And it was what he wanted.

What Raphael wanted, he got.

***

Fridays finished early for Castiel, since he wanted time in the evening to do something with his children. He felt strange as he finished the last order, completed Joshua’s paycheck, and locked up. After all, it was only three in the afternoon; yet there was no one waiting for him to come home.

But he did have a date in three hours.

It had distracted him all day. He had not been able to go twenty minutes without Raphael's voice in his head since waking up. He knew it was his own stress which had brought on the nightmares, but he had not been able to shake them. The worst part was that too much of his time spent dreaming was actually time spent remembering.

The dreams had begun with Castiel hurrying around his home, the one he had occupied before marrying Raphael. An excitement was overwhelming him, anxiety eating at his stomach mercilessly. Raphael was coming. Raphael was coming, and he had to be ready for him.

But the one who showed up at the door was a home inspector from the adoption agency. Castiel swallowed his panic, and welcomed her inside. “Ms. Atropos. Please come in! This isn't the right house, not as nice as the one the children will live in. I'm not Raphael's husband yet. I will be soon though. We can get started without him. He will be home late.”

Faye Atropos walked through the small home, looking about critically. Castiel was horrified to suddenly see how dirty the place was, how unacceptably messy.

Raphael was there then, sitting across from Faye on the couch. “You'll have to forgive him,” the man intoned. “He's an utter disaster. I'll hire someone to clean and someone to watch the children, of course.”

Faye nodded and looked down at her clipboard. “Does he have money?”

Castiel had frowned sharply. “I don't understand…”

“Quiet, Castiel. No, he's entirely useless. But as I said, I've got everything worked out. He will only be able to screw up so much. The children will have a nanny.”

“No!” Castiel called. “No. Raph, we talked about this! I didn't want to-”

Dangerous, dark eyes flashed at him, and his mouth went dry. “Enough. You know nothing about children.”

Faye sighed and scribbled on her pad.

Castiel began to tremble. “I don't understand. I cleaned just an hour ago. How can everything be so…”

“Because,” Faye said as though she were loathe to explain something so elementary, “I can see the real mess inside your head. Your house may be perfectly in order, but that's not really what I'm inspecting, is it? No. I'm looking inside you, and I can see how unfit you are to raise Thérèse and Jack. You can see it too.”

“No,” he whispered. “No, please. I was never good at anything, never good enough for him, but I'm a good father. Please. I really am. Don't take them, please. I'm begging you.”

She shook her head. “You misunderstand, Castiel. We aren't taking the kids away. You will never have them. They'll never know you. You'll never hold them. Never protect them from their fears or celebrate their growth. You'll never kiss their foreheads, and you'll never rock them to sleep, and you'll never read them stories. You'll never see their sand cities and trees. And they'll never love you. No one will ever love you, Castiel.”

His head dropped into his hands, and he lost time as he sobbed.

By the time he lifted his swollen eyes, he was married. The excitement had entirely turned to anxiety. Raphael was returning from work. They were in a hotel, in who knew what city in Europe, or maybe Brazil, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees, staring at a clock. He took a deep breath, and uncurled himself to stand. He was bare from the waist up, in just boxers below. He tried to take several deep breaths.

They caught in his throat as the door opened.

He smiled as well as he could. “Raph,” he said softly. “You're back!” It was so strange the way his anxiety increased at the mere presence of the man, and yet it was such a relief to have him near.

His husband raised an eyebrow, and folded his arms across his powerful chest while he waited.

Castiel frantically thought back, tried to remember why Raphael might be upset with him. He looked around them for clues.

He cringed. There was Spanish on the hotel forms on the dresser. This was Barcelona.

“Raph, please. Talk to me. You haven't wanted to talk to me for two days. I can't go the rest of the trip like this. Please.”

The tie came off with a snap.

Castiel flinched at the sound.

Raphael unbuttoned his shirt, and removed his jacket. He stripped slowly, with agitated movements. Castiel followed him about the suite, collecting his clothing, and hanging it or putting it in the laundry bag.

“Raphael, please. I'm sorry. I miss you,” he murmured. “I'm really sorry.”

It was the first time Raphael had spoken in a long while, and Castiel startled when he heard the voice. “Enough, Castiel. I've had enough.”

His heart was pounding. “I never meant to-”

“You are ungrateful. Spoiled. I give you everything, and you cannot accept a single simple request.”

Castiel's natural temper flared, but he swallowed it down.

“I was clear in my expectations, Castiel. You may explore the city as you like, in the day while I am in meetings. You may visit the gardens, museums. You can shop and do anything you please. But you are to be at my side past sunset. You cannot handle yourself in a city at night. I made that clear.”

“Yes,” he hissed. “I'm sorry.”

“You say that you lost track of time, that you didn't know it was getting so late. Statements such as that are perfect examples of why you cannot be on your own. And to find out that you lost track of time because you were meeting with that impossible friend of yours...You are not to see him again, Castiel. I forbid it.”

“He's just a friend, Raph! We went to college together-”

“He's a cad, and I know what he's trying to do. He's trying to come between us. He's always tried to come between us!”

Castiel threw his hands up in frustration. “How can you say that? I talk to Balt three times a year, over the phone, and I exchange an email with him now and then. The only time I see him is when we are in Spain, because he works here at the embassy!”

Raphael's fury boiled over. “Yes! The embassy in Madrid! Do you know how far he had to come to meet with you? Nearly six hours!”

He shook his head. “Raph, we came across the ocean. He said he could drive a few hours. Besides, he had business in Zargoza anyway. He was over half here already!”

“You will not see him again,” Raphael warned. “Promise me.”

Castiel sighed. “Raph, please. I don't talk with anyone other than you. I don't go anywhere except with you or by myself. I don't have anyone I can-”

“You don't need anyone!” Raphael cried out. He took a step toward him, and Castiel found himself sitting hard on the bed when he tried to back away. “I give you everything!” he reminded him in a roar.

“Yes, but-”

Raphael stared him down. “Castiel, I said I've had enough. Promise me now, right now, that you will not see that man again, or I will walk out and leave you six thousand miles from home, without money or even your passport, and you can find out if your college friend can take care of you better than I.”

His lips parted, and his breath gasped in through a sob. “You would…” Castiel stopped. He knew better. Raphael did not bluff. “I'm sorry. Raph, please, I'm sorry.”

“You forget, Castiel, that you have nothing without me. I ask for very little, but I demand that those requests I do make are met. Is this man someone you would lose me for?”

“Of course not!” he cried. “Raph, please! I love you! I'm sorry. I'll...I won't see him. I promise. Nothing is worth losing you. I love you.”

Raphael watched him for a moment, and shame filled Castiel's stomach as he realized his husband was assessing whether or not his word could be trusted.

Castiel took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes. “Raphael, I have never lied to you. Maybe I don't always do as you told me. But-but I always mean to. I would never put anything above you. Let me prove it.”

At last, the eyes softened, and his husband nodded. “It's all right, sweetheart. I know. That's why I chose you.”

Waves of relief overwhelmed him as Raphael's strong arms reached out. His eyes closed, and he curled into the embrace. Tears eased out to trickle down his cheeks.

When he opened his eyes again, Raphael was gone, and he lay in the grass at the park. There was a phone beside him ringing. He ignored it as he tried to orient himself. He blinked into the sun, then sat up with a heaviness that was nearly painful.

“He's left me,” he murmured then, wincing at the desperation in his own voice.

There weren't tears on his cheeks now. Now it was blood, from a cut above his brow, and from his nose. As he looked down in horror, he watched his knuckles crack open as well.

Just like Sam's.

Castiel tried to focus his mind. Sam's knuckles hadn't been bleeding. They had been bruised though. As if…

“He hit someone,” Castiel murmured to himself. “Not me. I'm not the one bleeding. I'm not. But he hit someone. A surgeon, his hands shouldn't be bruised like that. He hit someone. Or something. Raphael was a controlling bitch, but he never hit me.”

For a moment, that confused his foggy mind.

A slow, shocked laugh came bubbling out of him. “If he had, I would have hit him back,” he realized. “And I would have saved myself years of pain. But he never did. If he had, I would have known he was the wrong one. He walked on me, but he never hit me. Who did Sam hit?”

He had awoken with a terrifying thought trailing after the dreams, and it was all he could remember about it hours later. The rest of the exhausting night slipped away from him, but he was left with the overwhelming sense of determination. He thought aloud as he locked up for the day.

“I will not make the same mistake with Sam that I made with Raphael. I've got more to protect than just me now. I'll give him a chance, just one, to prove he's not a mistake. I'm the guardian of two children, and I will not allow someone into our lives who will hurt us. I'd rather be lonely than wrong again.”

He was so deep into his own worries that when he opened the door at home, it took him a moment to realize something was out of place.

A familiar cologne was creeping into his breath. Castiel's eyes widened. He whirled about and gazed into his living room. “Raphael!” he cried.

The older man smiled at him from his seat at the piano. “Hello, Castiel.”

He stared mutely.

His ex-husband began to pick out a melody, a very familiar song that sometimes haunted Castiel at night as a soundtrack to his nightmares. “Castiel, your piano is out of tune.”

“So is the rest of my life,” he breathed. “Where are Thérèse and Jack?”

“At my home. As you should be.”

He frowned. “What? Raph, why are you here? You aren't supposed to do that, just come over like that.”

“I came to see my husband,” he said quietly. The melody drifted off, and Raphael stood to finally face him. “I came to have my husband.”

Castiel's heart pounded in his chest as Raphael strode toward him with that same sickening confidence he had always possessed. “I'm not your husband,” he said, but there was no voice.

Raphael began to smile in a predatory way which made him shiver. He took hold of Castiel's arm, and pulled him toward him.

He was too stunned to resist when Raphael closed the distance between them. Before he could stop himself, let alone Raphael, he had let muscle memory take control, had submitted to a kiss he had melted under for fifteen years, and had ached to feel again for the last two.

 _That's right_ , his heart screamed happily. _That's right! I remember this! I remember how this goes! I remember letting go like this, letting him take the lead. I remember how it feels to be held, to be wanted!_

And suddenly every reason he had for resisting flew from his head.

_Wanted. Chosen._

God help him.

“It's all right, sweetheart,” the man murmured into his neck. “It's all right. I'm sorry. Tell me what you need. I'll listen this time. I'm here to bring you home.”

“Why?” he said hoarsely. Tears burned in his eyes; his throat was closing. It felt like he was losing his balance, falling through reality into someplace where nothing made sense.

“Why?” Raphael repeated with amusement. “Castiel, sweetheart, you belong at my side. I chose you.”

Those were the words he had worked for all his adult life, those precious words that were both reward and punishment, both relief and entrapment, both acceptance and judgement, both pleasure and panic. He backed away with a shake of his head. “No. No, Raphael. You left me. Remember? You said...you said I was…”

“Forget that, Castiel,” the deep voice purred.

But now those strong hands burned his skin, and he pushed them away. “Forget it?” he demanded. “Forget what? Forget that you trained me to think I was worthless? That I was nothing without you? Forget the way you controlled every breath I took since I was nineteen years old? Forget the way you made me think I couldn't breathe without you telling me how?”

“Castiel,” he warned.

It made him quake, that voice, but he forced his own to remain steady. “No. No, I can't forget any of it.” His blue eyes were pooling with tears, but flashing with fury. “You isolated me from every relation I had. You resented me even smiling at strangers. You never missed a chance to tell me how stupid I am, or to remind me I should be grateful for your touch and your money and your power, because I'm nothing without it! Falling from your grace was the greatest fear of my life, Raphael, and then? When I finally did? It turned out that it was all an illusion. I was…” He choked on his sobs, but continued stubbornly. “I was so scared to go. Because what if you were right?”

Raphael's dark gaze held barely controlled wrath, and it terrified Castiel even now.

“What if I really was worthless? What if my children suffered because you were right all along, that I was...that I couldn't make it without you? And it was a lie! Everything you ever said to me was a lie, Raphael! I let you feed me that garbage for so many years...If it weren't for them, I never would have had the strength to try. I'm just as smart as you are. I can work just as hard. I can take care of myself and my children without you.”

“Cast-”

“Stop it!” he screamed. “Stop saying my name! I hate the way you say my name! You say it like it's a disease! Like it's a defect! You made me choose between being an object and being alone. So don't you ever say you chose me. Don't you ever say it again. I'm Thérèse and Jack’s father. That's all I will ever be to you. And I'm their whole world, so if you ever want to be anything to them, you will learn to treat me with the respect I have more than earned. It isn't your choice anymore. Get out of my home.”

The storm that was his ex-husband raged through the front door and back to his black car to speed away.

Castiel was left trembling in his wake.

 _Oh_ , his heart said softly. _Oh. That's right. That's what it feels like. I remember this too. This is what being free is. This is what it feels like to choose free will over being kept. That's right. It feels like breaking. It feels like falling. That's right..._


	11. The Road Too Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think about the years I spent  
> Just passing through.  
> I'd like to have the time I lost  
> And give it back to you. 
> 
> But you just smile and take my hand  
> You've been there; You understand.  
> It's all part of a grander plan  
> that is coming true. 
> 
> Every long lost dream  
> Led me to where you are.  
> And others who broke my heart  
> They were like northern stars.  
> Pointing me on my way  
> Into your loving arms.  
> This much I know is true.  
> That God blessed the broken road  
> That led me straight to you.  
> ~Rascal Flatts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now I'm just rolling home  
> Into my lover's arms  
> This much I know is true  
> That God blessed the broken road  
> That led me straight to you.  
> ~Rascal Flatts

If Sam had ever had any confidence about flirting with a man, it would have dissolved after seven years of marriage to a woman. For better or for worse, Sam had never been burdened with any such self-assurance. Jess and Dean had each made it embarrassingly obvious that Sam was entirely awkward around anyone he deemed attractive. Unfortunately, that included Castiel Zaffre.

He arrived early at the restaurant, which he had thought to be a sound strategy until it suddenly occurred to him that he was seated in the center of the room, where all eyes could see that he was alone in a place that was clearly nowhere anyone would choose to eat alone. Looking like he had been forgotten or rejected, for fifteen minutes, in front of sympathetic gazes and a glass of water with melting ice, was not helping his confidence.

Then the man walked through the door, and Sam felt his breath stop. From across the room, he could see how intense and beautiful those blue eyes were, how intelligent and bright. When the waiter gestured in Sam's direction, Castiel smiled politely and thanked him. He glanced at Sam, but did not meet his eyes as he approached. He folded his coat across the back of his chair, and sat. Something about that made Sam think he was ready to run.

“They, uh, they have a coat check,” he said quietly.

Castiel smiled, but there was a bit of cynicism in it. “Yes. Well, I don't like to wait for it to be returned to me when it's time to go.”

Sam snorted. “Wow. That's...Okay. So you are ready to bolt.”

The man opened his menu. “If necessary. I'm older than you are, Sam. I have less time to waste on something that isn't right.”

Eyebrows shot up. “Whoa. Did I miss an episode? You just got here. How have I managed to disappoint you already?”

Their eyes met, and Sam was suddenly certain the man had been weeping. It made his chest tighten strangely.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

Castiel looked overcome with emotion for an instant; then he pulled it together in a way that Sam guessed came from years of practice. He smiled a bit too brightly. “I'm sorry. It's been a long…” He swallowed. “In any case, I have a question. Just one, and your answer may save us both a waste of time. What happened to your right hand?”

Sam stared at him, then looked down at his own hand clenched around his water glass. Realization stung. “Oh.” His eyes closed briefly, then he opened them with a sigh. “Not my best moment ever.”

His date waited.

He took a deep breath. “I punched my best friend in the face yesterday morning.”

Castiel nodded, and put the menu down. “Right. We're probably done here.”

It turned out that Castiel was right about the coat check. Sam had never realized how long it took to claim his jacket. The older man was half a block up the city street before Sam was able to catch up to him. “Cas!” he called.

The florist whirled on him like an experienced street fighter, and Sam had to take a step back to avoid a collision. “You know,” he spat, “I've spent most of my life under the thumb of an asshole just like you, who thinks that because he's got money, he doesn't have to treat other people like humans. So you have money! So what? How does that make you above everyone around you? You think you own everyone-”

At last, Sam had heard enough. “Hey,” he snapped back. “You don't know anything about me. I'm not-You never gave me a chance! You're my ex-wife all over again! You would rather run than talk!”

“Maybe she already knew everything she needed to know! Maybe she knew it wouldn't change anything, that nothing she ever said changed anything, because you never listened anyway!”

“Maybe she should acknowledge that perfection isn't an option! Maybe she should give a guy a chance to try to make up for things before writing him off!”

Castiel glowered fiercely. “You're all the same. Self-important, possessive, arrogant-”

“Judgemental, over-dramatic, inflexible, entitled-”

“Entitled!” Castiel roared. “Entitled? Yes, I'm entitled! I'm entitled to be treated like a human, treated with respect!”

“Would that include being given a chance before being written off as an asshole?”

“I've got kids to watch over! I can't-I just can't make the same mistakes again!”

Sam closed down the rest of his argument as Castiel's eyes filled with tears and fear. He sighed. “Cas. Cas, wait, okay? Just...wait!”

But the man was shaking his head and stepping backward. “No. I can't. I can't do this again. My kids…”

He lifted his hands in a sign of peace. “Cas, just wait. Listen to us.”

The tears slid down his cheeks. “I have to protect them,” he hissed, nearly apologetically. “If it were just me…”

Sam finally thought he understood. “No,” he corrected. “No, Cas, if it were just you, you'd still need to be vigilant, because it isn't just your kids who matter. You do too.”

The man shook his head sadly. “If it were just me, I'd have let him back in to destroy me all over again. It's easier to hate myself than to keep trying to hate him.”

He nodded. “And it's easier for me to keep holding on to what I've already lost than to risk hoping for something new.” He sighed. “I'm sorry, Castiel. If you want to go...I should let you go.”

But Castiel watched him with those intelligent eyes, and seemed to come to a decision. “And if you want a chance...I should let you try.”

They stared at one another for several heartbeats in silence. Then the doctor cleared his throat. “I hate dates,” he confessed. “Can we skip a few steps, past the parts I suck at?”

A tiny glint of a smile lit Castiel's eyes. “You mean the part where we both pretend to not be emotional wrecks? Or the part where we both pretend we are completely viable humans who can do things like eat a dinner with other humans and not make a disaster of everything?”

“Yeah. Both of those.” Sam took another step forward. He was unsurprised, but very pleased to smell flowers as he approached. “And the part where we pretend we aren't both a little broken and on our guard?”

“The part where we seem to be well-adjusted divorcées, with no lingering psychological scarring?”

He could feel the smile on his own face and see it reflected back on the handsome one before him. “We’ll skip over the bit where we try to seem like we're not terrified of screwing up?”

“And of being hurt and trapped again,” Castiel agreed softly.

Sam had closed the distance between them until they were nearly touching again. Castiel was gazing up at him warily, but with a curiosity that encouraged the younger man. He could work with curious. Curious was just fine. He very slowly reached to brush his fingertips along Castiel's arm to rest on his shoulder. “Where does that put us?”

Suddenly, the man began to laugh. “I don't know,” he admitted. “I just began my first date since I was eighteen in tears. So...clearly I'm no expert.”

Sam chewed on his lip. Then he took a breath. “Okay. We are both complete wrecks. Let's begin there. I'm Sam Winchester. I'm a surgeon who just found out yesterday his attending tech, his partner in every major surgery, and his best friend, is sleeping with and planning to marry his ex-wife.”

Castiel whistled low. “Ouch. Um. Okay. I-I, uh, I'm Castiel Zaffre. I'm the father of two young children, and my ex-husband waited for me to return to my house after I closed my shop today, to try to coerce me into entering back into an emotionally abusive relationship that I never want my kids to know about.”

“Today?”

“About two hours ago.”

He stared at him with a softening gaze. “Well, it's no wonder you're shaken up and defensive! This is the asshole you're comparing me to, I guess?”

The sun would set soon, but there was plenty of light at the moment, and there was no mistaking the flush on Castiel's cheeks. It was possibly the sweetest blush Sam had ever seen. “I'm sorry about that. It was unfair of me.”

“It's understandable, though, if I know where you're coming from. The last thing you want to see when you're coming out of an abusive situation is a guy who maybe can't control his temper. That's why you asked about my hand.”

“My kids…” he breathed.

Before Sam realized what he was doing, his instincts took hold. He raised a gentle hand to Castiel's cheek and looked deep into his doubt. “Cas, kids or no kids, you deserve better than that. And I...I deserve the chance to prove I am better than that. Please. I like you.”

Desperation clouded his eyes, but he did not move away from the tender touch. “How do you know?” he asked. “The only things you know about me are terrible!”

Sam laughed kindly. “You think so? Because I see a man strong enough to try again after being trapped in a marriage with a man who didn't respect him. I see a man who creates beautiful symbols of love when he's suffering from a broken heart himself. I see a man who knows that integrity and respect is far more important than money. I see a man who fiercely protects his children over all else. I see a man with a brilliant, quirky sense of humor that could make me laugh on a day when my whole world was crashing down around me.”

Castiel huffed in amazement. “Who the hell are you looking at?” he demanded wryly.

“You,” he confirmed. “It's not just who I'm looking at. It's who I've been looking for. What are you looking for, Castiel Zaffre? I've been separated from my wife for over a year, but I've been alone even longer. I'm lonely. And you're gorgeous. I want a chance. Tell me what you want, and give me a chance to be it.”

The blue gaze was soft with hope. “I want to be in love with someone without being trapped there. I want to be half of a love, but still fully myself.”

Sam grinned happily. “I think I want that too. I'd like to love someone with my whole heart, to do the best I can, and then not have to worry night and day about what I can't be.”

“I have everything I need in my life, Sam. I love my work. I love my children. I don't need to be taken care of, and I don't need you to give me anything. What I would like…” He smiled in a sort of relieved way as the words came to him. “What I want is someone to share what I've already got.”

“I want to meet your kids,” Sam admitted breathlessly. “I bet they're awesome.”

It had fallen out of his mouth without thought. But it must have been exactly the right thing to say, because suddenly Castiel was on him, kissing him with a passion that seemed to come all the way from the tips of the toes he stood on to reach Sam's lips. Sam was immediately hobbled by the intensity, by the sheer joy that was in that kiss.

How that husband of his hadn't known what an amazing thing he had, Sam would never understand. He wanted to spend hours getting to know Castiel from every angle, to listen and file away every word he said, to learn everything he could about this man who had made him laugh on the day Kevin and Jessica had told him their plans to devastate him by making one another happy. Because that was the moment he had fallen for him. He hadn't realized it before, but Castiel's endearing, adorable charm had swept him away on what amounted to the worst day of his life. He had been the flower among the thorns, and the only sunlight that fed him on that dismal day. Maybe his ex-husband couldn't appreciate what a gift Castiel was. But Sam was grateful.

John Winchester had taught his sons to find opportunities that others overlooked. He had trained them to work hard for everything they wanted, even if it seemed to come easily to them. He showed them that investing themselves was more important than investing money. He said that it was critical to listen to what others ignored, to find patterns and connections that no one else bothered to see. Others would shy away from the hard work, but if the investment felt right, if it was the right path, it would all be worth it in the end.

Castiel felt right.


	12. Ever Afters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is a ball  
> A hundred pound ball  
> On the end of a chain  
> About ten foot long.  
> Love is a Chevy  
> A '67 Chevy  
> Sitting in the backseat  
> Breathing hot and heavy.  
> Love is a child  
> An innocent child  
> Running through the field  
> Full of flowers growing wild...
> 
> ~Trick Pony

Thérèse was watching her papa. Jack was staring up at Sam.

“You're so big!” he exclaimed finally.

His sister shushed him, but Sam laughed. He got down on his knee, then sat on his heel when he realized he was still too tall for little Jack. “You're pretty big too, buddy.”

Jack puffed with pride. “I'm very big,” he assured him.

Castiel snickered. “Okay, big kid. Go pick your book for the night.” He glanced at Sam as Jack turned to run to the other room. “It will just take me a few minutes to get him to sleep.”

“No problem,” the man said easily. “Mind if I read to him?”

He blinked. “I-I don't…”

Sam put his hand up. “It's okay. If it's your thing, I get it. Just thought it would be fun. He's a cute little guy.”

Jack came bounding back into the room. “Trains!” he announced breathlessly, holding up a book as though it were a trophy.

Sam whirled on Castiel. “Dude. Trains. I can do trains. You've gotta let me do trains.”

Castiel tried to keep his grin dampened down. He pretended to consider. “I don't know…”

Sam reached for Jack’s book. “Look! Man, it's Thomas! Who doesn't love Thomas? I watched Thomas when I was a kid! I'll even do the accent.”

Jack looked like he was the one falling in love. “You know Thomas?” he whispered with reverence.

The solemnity on Sam's face made Castiel laugh. “Buddy, everyone knows Thomas. He's a legend. Seriously. I am so reading this.”

The little boy stared up at Castiel. “Papa?” he pleaded.

“I suppose,” he consented. “Just this once, and only if you go right to sleep after.”

Jack grabbed hold of two of Sam's fingers and they tore off for the bedroom like two excited puppies. A moment later, through the open doors, Castiel could hear variations of Sam's voice producing peals of laughter from his son. He smiled.

“Papa?”

Castiel sat beside her on the couch. “Yes, baby?”

“He's your friend? The one you talk to on the phone?”

“Yes, baby. He's my very good friend. Do you like him?”

“He's nice. And he reads to Jack.”

“Evidently.”

She nodded. “Does he like me?”

He watched her intelligent eyes searching his face. “Do you think he does?”

“He maybe does. He smiles like he's happy about me.”

Castiel felt a warmth fill him. “Yes. Maybe so.”

“And you like him.”

“How can you tell?” he teased gently with a chuckle.

But Thérèse was not laughing. “Because you look at him like your favorite flowers. Like you do when your music comes on. He's your best friend, isn't he? Your favorite one.”

He wasn't sure what she meant about the flowers and the music, but he was more concerned with how she felt about Sam in their lives. It had been three months since that first disastrous, wondrous date. He had seen Sam as often as he could, and they had spent countless hours on the phone. Sam had continued to ask about the children, especially after Castiel had shown him the video on his phone of the two of them dancing together. He had wanted every story Castiel could think of about the two of them. Finally, Castiel had given in and suggested Sam come over after dinner. “I guess so. What do you think of that?”

Thérèse always seemed to be watching him. “I think he likes you too, Papa. Are you going to kiss him?”

His dark eyebrows shot up. “Uh...I, uh...maybe. Why-why would you…?”

She shrugged. “It's what they do in the stories, Papa,” she reminded him. “Then they get their happy ever afters.”

A wave of affection poured through him. “You think Sam and I can have some happy ever afters?” he asked.

“Don't you want some?”

For no apparent reason, Castiel suddenly felt emotion tightening his throat. “Yeah, Thérèse, baby. I really, really do.”

“Then you have to have the kiss,” she informed him. “Want to practice with my bear?”

He declined the offer, but thanked her for the kindness. “I'll tell you what. If you can get your teeth brushed and your pajamas on, and you and your brother can sleep, maybe I can see if Sam might want a little kiss, and maybe I'll talk to him about ever afters.”

“Happy ones.”

“Right. That's the best kind.”

Thérèse eyed him suspiciously. “You won't forget, will you?”

“No, baby. I promise. You would like Sam to be part of our ever afters? Yours and mine and Jack’s? We don't need anybody else. You know that, right? The three of us, we're all we need to be happy.”

She nodded. “Okay, but Sam too. He can be family too. And my bear.” She stood from the couch and began to walk away. Then she turned back. “Papa? When your friend Sam is talking on the phone with you, you smile a lot. You don't just pretend to smile like when Père is on the phone with you, and he makes you sad. Sam doesn't be mean to you like Père.”

Castiel's heart shattered in his chest without warning, and he couldn't speak at first. But as she watched him, he dug deep for a response. “Baby,” he sighed. He lifted her onto his lap and looked in her eyes. “Baby, look at Papa.”

Lowered eyes lifted to meet his.

“Thérèse, I don't ever want you to worry about how Père and Papa make each other feel. Because we love you so much. We love you and Jack so much that it's all that matters. Okay? Look at Papa, baby. Am I strong?”

She smiled a little. “So strong. You're the strongest ever.”

He hugged her gently. “That's right. I eat lots of vegetables, don't I?”

“That's why you're strong,” she confirmed.

“That's right,” he laughed again. His chest wasn't quite as tight anymore. “So do you need to worry about me?”

“No,” she said, but it was a lilting syllable, as if she wasn't convinced. “But, Papa, I don't like for Père to be mean to you.”

He wanted to strangle Raphael. Instead, he sighed again. “Thérèse, Père and I love you and Jack. We aren't friends like we used to be, but we each love you. And sometimes grownups don't talk to each other the way we should, and sometimes we hurt one another's feelings. But what matters is that you and Jack Jack know that we love you. Okay?”

“Okay. But I still want you to be happy, Papa.”

Castiel held her tightly against his chest for a moment. “Thérèse, baby, you and Jack Jack are all I'll ever need for that. I'm happy. I might like having Sam with us to be happy too. But you are Papa’s heart and hero. Right?”

“Yes, Papa,” she said, and then she yawned. “And Jack Jack is your laugh and love.”

“That's right.”

“What can Sam be?”

He looked up to see the large man lurking in the hall, smiling down at them. “I don't know, baby,” he confessed. “Maybe he can be my soul and salvation.”

“What's that?” she asked.

He lifted her and carried her to her room with a laugh. “Never mind, baby. We’ll talk more another time. You have school in the morning. Go get ready for bed now, please. I'll be there in two minutes, and I want to see you finished up, with pretty teeth and a clean face.”

She squirmed out of his arms and hurried to complete her bedtime routine.

Castiel returned to the living room to look up at Sam. “She wants to know if you'll be a better friend to me than her father.”

Sam flinched, and all mirth flew from his face. But he kept his voice low. “Cas? I do not like your ex-husband.”

“That makes two of us. But he was their father. I still can't figure out how to tell them he wants nothing to do with them now that I've turned down his offer of reconciliation. I guess I should have known he…” Tears welled in his eyes, and he let Sam wrap his long arms around him. “Raphael has never, ever read a story to either of them,” he hissed out. “When you offered, I didn't even know what to say. And now he's said he doesn't want to see them at all. That he's...he's done with all of us forever. I guess I should have known he would care more about his pride than his children...my children. I just can't believe…” He looked up at Sam with intense hurt on his face and pleading in his eyes. “How could he not love them? How could he think hurting them is the way to hurt me?”

“Because it does.”

“But…” He blinked hard against the tears. “But how...How did I make him hate me so much that he’s willing to leave those two babies forever?”

Sam's chin rested on his head, as if he wanted to completely envelop Castiel in his warmth and protection.

“He never felt like this,” he realized. “I thought...but it was never like this. I never even knew it could be like this.” He sniffed. “You know, the worst part? I don't even know if they'll miss him. He wasn't an active father even when we lived with him. Jack doesn't remember living with him. And when he left, he ripped himself from our lives so completely...never spent time with them even when they were at his home...He only demanded they go there because he wanted to still be able to take something from me. He still wanted something to control. They're babies, Sam. How can the man who was supposed to be their father use them like that, then...throw them away?”

“I'll tell you what I do know,” Sam said softly, with quiet anger in his voice. “When I convince you to marry me, Castiel, I promise you I'll be more than a father to your children. I'll be a daddy.”

Blue eyes closed just as the first tear fell. “It's only been a few months,” he said. “You'll change your mind. And I can't bring someone into their lives who is going to leave them. They can't...Not like he did…”

“Cas?” Sam reached down and lifted his chin with a gentle hand to look into his face. “Castiel, I'm not going to do anything like he did. I want all of you. I want every part of this. Not just you. Them. You know what happened with me and Jess. I begged her to adopt. She wanted to be pregnant, for the kids to be half her and her husband. That part never mattered to me. I look at how Ben looks at my big brother, and how Dean looks at him, and...and I want that. And you've got a head start on me, two years with Jack and four with Thérèse, years he got that I didn't, and I don't want to fall further behind. If you're going to teach these kids about real love, we've got to start now. Thérèse watches everything, Cas. Let her see her papa in love.”

He couldn't help how he was breathing out of rhythm, somewhere between quiet hysteria and utter exhaustion. “I can't...I can't…”

Sam shook his head. “Cas, please. Between the two of us, we've seen every way this could end badly. We've gotten our asses kicked by love. But in just a few months...You just said you never felt this with Raphael. I never felt it with Jess. I loved her. But I was never the real me around her, not really. And she loved me, but we just didn't fit the way you and I do. It's already a thousand times easier with you.”

Castiel sniffed and nodded. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I haven't daydreamed about exploding you with a snap of my fingers even once yet. And unlike Raphael’s, I'm pretty certain your brother isn't the Devil.”

Sam snorted. “That's up for debate later,” he said dryly. “But see? It isn't just you and me. It's the whole family. I want your kids. You don't hate my brother. Hell, Cas, you even like my ex-wife.”

The slow smile came with a bit of a giddy shiver crawling up his spine. “She does have excellent taste in men...”

“Don't!” he warned with a glint of dark humor in his eye.

“I mean, that Kevin guy is hot.”

Sam threw his hands up in defeat. “You're impossible!” he laughed. “I'm trying to tell you I love you, and I want to spend my life with you and your kids!”

For the first time, maybe in years, Castiel felt like he could take a full breath. He relished it, let it out slowly, as if every ounce of negativity was leaving his lungs.

Sam waited.

Castiel shook his head. “Yeah. Okay. It's been over a decade since my heart wasn't in pieces. I'm sure I could put it together with duct tape and safety pins, and give you what's left. As long as we are clear that if you hurt my kids, I will just kill you. I'm done with divorce. That's a pain in the ass. I'm skipping straight to murder next time.”

The surgeon grinned. “I'll make a note. You can put it in the vows.” He searched the man's face intently. “That's a yes? We can do this?”

“That's a yes,” Castiel confirmed. “I don't know if we can do this, but it's definitely a yes to trying.”

Sam grabbed him in an enthusiastic hug. “I'll take it!” he exclaimed happily.

Relief seemed to flush through his veins, and suddenly, Castiel realized he wasn't tired anymore. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't angry. And he wasn't alone.

“Papa?”

He smiled and dropped out of Sam's arms to lower himself. “Yes, my love?”

Thérèse glanced back in the hallway, where her brother was hiding shyly behind a corner, but peeking out at them. “Jack wants to know if Sam ever was on a train.”

Sam laughed and gestured to Jack to come out. “I was,” he said happily. “Were you ever on a train?”

Jack shook his head, and Thérèse answered for him. “No. We never was.”

The older man watched as his children gravitated toward Sam's charisma. Thérèse sat gingerly in front of him, and Jack climbed right into the man's lap. Castiel looked at Sam quickly to catch his reaction, and found only a soft smile.

“Well, if your papa says it's okay, maybe we can all go on a train ride one day. Would that be fun?”

Thérèse giggled, and Jack was up and bouncing immediately. “Papa, trains!”

“Is it okay, Papa?”

Castiel nodded. “One day.”

Sam glanced at him. “I'm free Saturday. Want to take them up to the city? We could do the zoo while we’re there.”

He blinked. “You mean...This Saturday? Like, in two days?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. If you can.”

In the midst of the children's excitement, Castiel took another long, deep breath. Sam was not Raphael, he told himself. Raphael promised them things, then never followed through. Raphael told the children they could do something someday, but never committed to what day. It had always fallen on Castiel to either keep Raphael's promises himself or to break the news to the children when he couldn't.

“You're certain?” he asked quietly. “Please don't tell them you'll do something if you might change your mind.”

Hazel green eyes locked with his, and for a moment, that was all there was in the world. “Castiel? I will never change my mind. I promise you. You can trust that.”

Heaven help him, he did.

***

Dean was sitting with his guitar on his knees, picking out a melody with Ben. Jack sat at their feet with his toy instrument, and gazed at them in adoration as they played. Dean hit a bad chord, and the three of them laughed and began again.

“They're not bad,” Sam said with a distinct fondness.

“No,” Lisa agreed. “Not bad at all. I think taking lessons with Ben has been better for him than the counseling. I know it's been wonderful for Ben. And it seems to heal something for Dean to be for him what your dad wasn't for Dean.”

Sam smiled sadly. “Yeah. I believe that. Dean spent his whole life training to be the soldier Dad wanted him to be, and then the night he died, Dad told him to stand down. He also told him he was proud of him, but when he added that I disappointed him and Dean wasn't who he wanted to take over what he started...Saying you're proud of your sons but then saying they're not good enough in the same breath, especially when it was his last breath…Well, it crushed him. Then Bela showed up a week later to break what was left. If it weren't for you and Ben believing in him, I don't know if he would have made it. Thank you for that.”

She put her arm around his waist and leaned on him. “Thank you for keeping him going till then. I know he looked out for you growing up. But you returned that favor after Bela did her damage.”

“Can you believe she had a real husband out there?”

Lisa snorted. “Can you believe he is as conniving a thief as she is? Angelo Balthazar. What a couple. The two of them conned a dozen people or more.”

“The couple that thieves together…” Sam sighed. “Almost sad they're in different prisons. Seems like they'd be perfect punishment for one another if they ever had to actually be a real married couple.”

Lisa squeezed him and gestured toward the man sitting on the stairs with a lovely little girl in a white dress and a loose braid. “Speaking of real married couples,” she said, “what will the kids call you?”

Pleasure heated Sam's face. “Daddy. They settled on Daddy.”

“That's sweet. I thought they might just call you by name.”

“You mean like Ben calls him Dean. But Ben was older. And Cas and I told them it was just fine for them to keep calling me Sam. But they have a Papa. They lost their Father. And they want a Daddy.”

“Do they ask about Raphael at all?”

He shook his head as they watched Castiel laughing quietly with Thérèse. “Jack doesn't at all. Thérèse asks as though she just wants to know if his status has changed at all. She's pretty detached about it. Cas asks her sometimes if she's sad, or if she wants to talk about why her Père hasn't called. She just says no. I think she understands too well. Jack will forget about him for the most part. Thérèse will remember maybe, but she doesn't seem upset. What's worse is she didn't even seem surprised.”

“She's very smart, Sam. I volunteer with an elementary school; I have since Ben was little, and I've known a lot of four and five year olds. She's very smart.”

A wealth of pride filled him. “Yeah? She seems that way to me too, but I don't have much of a point of reference.”

Lisa laughed. “Well, then, let me assure you. The kid is wicked smart. And she watches every move you make. So good luck with that, Daddy.”

Sam smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Winchester.”

She patted his arm and left him to approach her son, who was trying to show Dean a complex set of chords, while Jack tried to make the same movements with his smaller hands. She called to Thérèse to join them, sending a wink to Sam.

His new husband stood and brushed off his suit pants. “I've never left them for a weekend before,” he fretted. “Raphael has taken them for longer, almost a week the last time. But I've never left them.”

Sam put his arms around him. “You want to stay? We’ll stay.”

For a moment, he thought the florist was going to nod. But he sighed instead. “No,” he said firmly. “No. They need to know that Papa and Daddy come back. They need to see that we will always come back to them. And they should get to know their cousin and aunt and uncle better, to bond with them. It's important that we go.”

He laughed and dipped his head to look Castiel in the eyes. “And you deserve a honeymoon. Right? That too?”

Castiel blinked as though he had not understood the question, then he smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. Of-of course.”

“Because your best man said in his speech today that the best gift I can give your kids is to love their papa, and the best gift you can give your kids…”

“...is a happy papa,” Castiel finished. “Joshua is the wise man from every story you've ever read.”

“Kevin claims to be a prophet, so I don't put much stock in all that.”

Castiel snorted. He was quiet for a long while, staring at the remnants of the morning wedding, Dean’s family and his own children sitting around the living room in their best clothes, enjoying one another's company. Slowly, he seemed to realize Sam was watching him instead. “What are you doing?” he wondered.

“Listening to you.”

Sometimes Castiel squinted his eyes so much that Sam was reminded of a cat surprised by sudden light. He found it adorable. “I'm not saying anything.”

Sam shrugged. “But you might. And I don't want to miss anything if you do.”

Castiel began to laugh, but Sam could see the pleasure in his eyes. “You're ridiculous.”

“No. I'm the smartest man in the world. I married you. No matter what else I ever do, I was smart enough to marry Castiel Zaffre.”

“What does that say about Raph?” Castiel asked sourly.

“Who?” Sam teased.

“No one,” his husband responded. Then he kissed his nose. “I guess we have to get going if we are going to get to the cabin in time.”

“Cas, we own the cabin. What do you mean in time?”

“I can't very well tear your clothes off here, in front of your brother. Pretty sure he'd channel the Godfather on me.”

Sam burst into laughter. “You dare disrespect me, and on this, the day of my brother’s wedding!”

“Wouldn't end well.”

“Probably not.”

“So, instead, I suggest we head out before I lose my calm collectedness and jump you in the car on the way. I estimate you've got roughly a half hour before that becomes a very real possibility. If we leave now, we might make it in time.”

Sam nodded with feigned seriousness. “You're right. We'd better get going.”

While Castiel said goodbye to the others, Sam’s own best man stole one last pounding hug from his younger brother. “I'm proud of us, man,” he said in Sam's ear. “A year ago, we were a complete train wreck, both of us. Now look. Practically respectable, functioning humans.”

“I wouldn't give us too much credit, dude. We got some pretty incredible angels looking out for us.”

They watched Castiel hug Lisa, then stand back to give last minute instructions about the children.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed. “How'd we get so lucky?”

Sam smiled. “I guess they've got low standards.”

“That was my guess too.”

They shared a laugh, and another hug, and then it was time to go.

***

Castiel had made good on his threat the moment Sam had unlocked Samuel Campbell’s old cabin, nestled in the delicious privacy of the mountains. The sheer abandonment and joy of making love where there wasn't another human for many miles was incredible. Then they showered and made love again, but slower this time, in a hot steam of want and sweet affection. There was no pressure, no stress or expectation between them, not like they had felt with their former partners. Now they were free to love with no net. It was as free as either of them had ever felt.

Sam lay awake the next morning, listening to Castiel's steady breathing beside him, and counting in his head. Eighteen. It had been eighteen hours since he had become Castiel's husband. It was hardly an anniversary.

He planned to celebrate it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two hearts in love  
> Go where they will.  
> Time may fly, but  
> Love, be still. 
> 
> ~Trick Pony


End file.
